


Where The Skies Are So Blue

by lostinthesounds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Did I mention angst, F/M, Fluff, and there’s an epilogue!, finn and abby come through at the end, jealous!Bellamy, soft bellarke, sweet home alabama inspired, talk of miscarriage, they got married in high school, they never fell out of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds
Summary: At the age of thirteen, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin confessed their feelings for eachother during a storm. At eighteen, they get hitched while madly in love.Six years later, however, things are different.She’s moved on. He’s living his life. She’s in Polis, Bellamy in Arkadia.Clarke is newly engaged to the head doctor at Polis Memorial, with cameras flashing and her mother full of pride. It was only a matter of time before she has to confront her old life, as she comes to a realization that she can’t escape her past and most importantly, she was stillmarriedto Bellamy.Thinking that she’s got it covered, her plan goes a little something like this: She’ll go home and forget about how she felt towards her ex-husband, and force him to sign the papers.If only things were so easy.It was a nice thought out plan until she’s at the doorstep of her old house and all of the memories come flooding back.[Bellarke In ‘Sweet Home Alabama’]





	1. It’s Sinking In Now (How I Left You)

**Author's Note:**

> AHH!! my first modern AU that I feel sooo excited about. 
> 
> This story is inspired by the early romantic comedy 2000's movie, 'Sweet Home Alabama' and I'm just so filled of ideas to throw Bellamy and Clarke into this world. 
> 
> Please enjoy, feel free to leave comments or kudos (greatly appreciated) and thank you for reading! The title is also a lyric from the song by Lynyrd Skynyrd, just like the movie's title origin.
> 
> Side Notes: the setting for the fic is 2008, so whenever there isn’t a date stated in bold in the beginning of a section, WE ARE IN PRESENT TIME. I’ll always put a past date in bold, so hopefully it’s not as confusing. For this story that’s now complete, thank you for reading!

**_Where The Skies Are Blue _**

_lostinthesounds _

* * *

The night had been filled with bright stars and gusts of the spring breeze that came every once in a while, making Clarke shiver. She didn’t think to bring a sweater, it was mid April and she was used to closing windows to block cold air and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders instead. Her dress cascaded to the floor in drapes, a deep navy blue that adorned the color of her skin when it struck the lamp lights under the sign that read, “_Welcome to the Annual Polis Memorial Celebration_” where she would be honored for her position and endless hours of service in the hospital. 

As Finn lead her down a corridor from inside the event hall, she notices a crowd of staff members begin to form in the garden. 

Clarke should've seen it coming. 

She knew all the warning signs - when Raven had called her earlier in the week to ask for her ring size, or when her mother called to ask if she wanted to go shopping for the fundraiser during the weekend that she would be attending with Finn - and yet, she stood in front of her boyfriend with her mouth hung in surprise and tears welling in her eyes. 

Finn was on his knee, a diamond ring cradled in his shaky hands as he spoke to her. 

"Clarke, you are the best thing in my life." He says, and it's like he knew exactly what to say to make her knees go weak. "I know for certain that you make me a better man, a better _person_. Baby, you're the one girl I've dreamt of having since I was a kid. I want you, and only you" 

"Finn, _what_," She doesn't even get to finish her question, her emotions getting the best of her as the tears start to fall down her cheeks. "What are you doing?" 

Even as the cameras start to flash around them, Clarke only focuses on the way Finn's smile never cracks on his face. _She hates the paparazzi_. Somehow, he must’ve known this proposal would be the exception because she would want to remember this moment forever. 

The fundraiser was the perfect way to distract her. 

"Will you make me the happiest man ever, and marry me?" He asks, and Clarke has to laugh instead of reply because she feels like she won't be able to talk. She clutches her chest, heart pounding against her chest as she nods in response. 

She hears people cheering for them, somehow knowing that her mother and Raven must of been in on the surprise. She mumbles his name repeatedly in awe, until their lips meet and he's kissing her frantically like there are no cameras around them capturing every moment. 

This was it. 

Clarke was getting married to one of the best doctors in Polis, her family successful, and she was _happy_. 

She had her future planned out in front of her, and it's such a great realization that she sighs blissfully against Finn's mouth as she pulls away to see his face. It feels like it's them two against the universe, moving forward to better things, and just for a moment—Clarke forgets about the people she's left behind. 

She forgets about the girl she used to be. The girl she _truly_ is, who never dreamt of herself as being one of the best doctors in Polis about to get married to the head surgeon. 

* * *

"Rae, you're not helping." Clarke groans, nervously switching her phone to be held by her other hand. She hasn't left her apartment in two days, and it was slowly beginning to drive her insane. She hasn't had the strength to tell her mother about the papers that were shoved angrily in her bedside table, or the courage to face Finn after reading it's contents. "I called you so you could give me advice, y'know?" She pauses and lays down onto her comforter with a headache brewing under her temples. "It's my fault for thinking it'd be good." 

"I know you're stressed, so I won't take offense to that comment." Raven replied, and the blonde feels thankful that her friend knows the difference between words she actually means and when she's saying things that feel good. "But, you need to tell Finn so you could fix this." 

"How do I tell my fiancée that I'm _married_, Raven?" Clarke hissed, but grabs a pillow from beside her head and nuzzles into it. She should've been smarter back then, she should've sorted things out before she left for Arkadia so she wouldn't have to be in this mess now. 

She wouldn't be able to get married if she didn't fix this. 

She wouldn't be able to be with Finn, a loyal and kind man who treats her well. 

She was happy. She didn't want to ruin things, not when Finn gave her everything she had missed from back home. Well, her _old_ home. 

"That's your reason, Clarke." Raven pointed out, after raising her voice at someone over the other line. It made Clarke feel bad, as she was bothering her friend at work but she needed someone to talk to and she finally caved into reaching out. "You tell Finn your past, so you're being _honest_ with the man you want to marry," She emphasized because it was the right thing to do, and Clarke also knew that. She just spent so long avoiding who she truly was, only to fit into the mold of her mother's vision to start their new life. Raven continued, "Or, you go back to Arkadia and fix things with-_Uh_, what was his name again?" sounding less amused with this option. 

"Bellamy." Clarke reminded her, and she says his name again before her throat constricts. "His name is Bellamy." 

She sits up slowly in her bed again, gaze caught immediately upon the stack of paper that sat at the edge of her bed. It was like she was drawn to him, drawn to the life she thought she would have with him. She guessed it was because she would always feel connected to him, he was her first love after all. 

The man she thought she'd marry and be with for the rest of her life. 

“So, do you know what you’re gonna do?” 

Clarke doesn’t answer her then. Her friend’s voice goes unnoticed, and she hangs up the phone. She placed it down next to her, and she reaches forward to grab at the piece of paper at the top of the pile. 

_This Certificate Verifies The Marriage Between Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin, on the day May 6th 2002_. 

She reads further, trying not to cry. 

_Ages: 18 and 19 _

_Witnesses to Ceremony: Jake and Abigail Griffin. Along with Octavia Blake_. 

Clarke ends up convincing herself that she’s crying because her father was gone, and she remembers how happy he was to see his daughter with a man who would love her forever. Who would treat her right when he was _gone_. That’s who her dad thought of Bellamy as, and she thinks back to that time in her life. 

To when, she was reckless and in love. 

Where she let her heart rule over her entire conscious, her every decision. She was blinded by her love for Bellamy, that she rushed into things. 

Now, she sees _clearly_. 

She didn’t have her father. She didn’t have Bellamy. She _had_ her mother who helped her stay in line, stay in check with what her father would want for her. 

Her life was different now, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on her past. 

Not when Finn was her future. Her life wasn’t in Arkadia, not anymore. Clarke wasn’t eighteen _anymore_, she was twenty four with a stable job and a best friend who she could rely on to tell her what she needs to hear. 

Maybe; she doesn’t agree, but Clarke knows that Raven was right. Arkadia wasn’t her home, but it wouldn’t hurt to go back to get the answers she needs. 

She needs to talk to Bellamy. She has to get him to sign the divorce papers and figure out why he hasn’t reached out once he saw that she was with Finn — since she’s sure that he at least, had access to television and google — to end things. 

Clarke shuffled through the stack of papers to find the empty applications for divorce, and tries to scan her messy room for a pen. When she does find one, it doesn’t take long for her to fill out the necessary information. She decides to leave her signature for last, wanting to finish the application with Bellamy. 

She would trust that he would sign it if she did it with him, so she lets the nerves in her stomach settle for now. 

Clarke didn’t have to worry. 

If she knew Bellamy, she knew that he was stubborn and hard headed — but, _not_ when it came to her. She was his weakness, and shamelessly, she hoped that she still was if this was going to work. 

* * *

**_MARCH 20TH 1996_**: 

“We’re going to get in _so_ much trouble for this, Clarke.” Bellamy complained but allows the younger girl to pull his arm away from his window, the one he just climbed out from. “We’re supposed to be sleeping!” 

Clarke tugs her coat sleeves further down her arms, having rushed out of her house once the rain started to really _pour_. It was her favorite weather, she loved to run outside and get drenched and enjoy the breeze that accompanied the midnight sky. 

That night wasn't any different. Clarke just _loves_ storms. 

(And Bellamy.) However, she was only thirteen with a simple crush on a boy she could never have.

“Please, Bell.” She urged him along, paying no mind to how the soles of her shoes were getting soaked with rain water. She had worn this slip on sneakers, which probably weren’t smart for walking in mud. All the boy does is roll his eyes playfully at her, “I just wanna go to the beach, and watch the rain hit the surface of the waves.” 

She adds on, once she sees his shoulders slump in defeat. “You know I love to see that, especially when it’s night time.”

“Yeah, I know a lot of things about you Clarke.” Bellamy agreed, eyes going soft and narrowed. He tugs his hands into his pockets, wet black curls sticking to his forehead when he looks down at her. 

Clarke’s eyes brighten, like a child in a candy store — staring at all she ever thinks she would need in life. It was in front, above, everywhere around her. 

“We gotta be careful,” Bellamy warns after a few minutes of silence, both of them comfortable enough to walk side by side. He may only be fourteen, an _actual_ teenager in her eyes when she was just a year younger, but he was so wise. Always so smart and caring, it’s something that Clarke gravitated towards. “There’s a chance of lightning too, and it’s already dangerous out here.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Clarke assured, as she looked above them into the sky. It was dark, the moonlight cascading a silver light in the area. She could still see perfectly in front of her, so there wasn’t a problem. “I think we’re okay.” 

She thinks he looks beautiful in that moment: with his hair sticking to his forehead, water pellets against his tan skin and brown freckles that shined under the light. She also knew that he hated getting wet, especially when he could’ve bought an umbrella. 

She was the opposite. Maybe, that’s exactly why she liked him so much. 

Bellamy shakes his hair out, like a dog and it makes Clarke laugh. 

“What’s ridiculous is that you didn’t bring an umbrella—what are our parents gonna say when they catch us? Not only, will we be grounded but we’ll be sick too.” He complained. Both knew it was meant to be threatening or make Clarke change her mind, but he forced himself to look away to keep from letting the blonde girl see his smile grow. He couldn’t help himself. 

“So, I’d take that risk.” Clarke replied strongly. “Are you gonna stay with me or go back?” 

Just as she says her last word, there’s a strike of lightning in the distance that makes them both jump. Bellamy instinctively gets closer to Clarke, hand curling around her wrist and pulls her to him. _She’s barely two inches in front of his face_. 

“Why would I leave?” She doesn’t know if he’s being a tease by inhaling softly in their shared space, but she could feel his every breath against her nose. “Who’s gonna protect you from that storm if I leave?” 

“I could protect myself.” 

“You have to be brave, Clarke.” 

“I _am_ brave, Bell.” Clarke pulls away from his warmth and begins to walk down the trail, not waiting to hear his footsteps behind her. She tries not to regret that decision because she grows cold quickly, with the rain falling hard and her clothes becoming soaked. 

“Prove it,” Bellamy urged. “Tell me a secret.” As if it would prove anything, she began to think to herself. Soon enough, he’s once again beside her and walking side by side. 

Clarke takes a deep breath, knowing very well that he was her best friend and what she felt towards him wasn’t normal if she didn’t want to be anything more. It could change everything, and for some odd reason that her mind makes up pushes her forward to do what she’s absolutely terrified of—“I like you, Bellamy.” 

She doesn’t wait around for an answer as she picks up her pace, walking further away from him. 

Bellamy’s breath hitches, she hears him come to a halt and step back when a branch snaps. 

“Really?” He asked. There’s a certain awe in his eyes, directed at her. “That’s your big secret? I’ve liked you since we were nine, Clarke.” He says it without a care in the world, like it’s something he could explain to his mother without thinking. 

It had slipped past his lips easily. 

She’s frozen in her tracks now too, eyes wide as she forced herself to face her fear and just look at him. They were kids who weren’t afraid of anything but their feelings for each other. 

Bellamy was grinning. 

She had to smile back, she was feeling so _many_ things. 

“You like me?” She questioned with narrowed eyes then gestures to herself with a pointed finger. She had a hard time believing, “You like me, for _real_?” 

The rain pour is constant, almost like they both have gotten used to it. 

Bellamy wipes his face of rain water and shakes his hand out, stepping forward to take Clarke’s hand and interlock their fingers. She’s a hundred percent convinced that she looks like a mess, her blonde hair sticking to her neck and face in any direction. If she was older, she would’ve grabbed his face and kissed him by then. 

It’s what she’s seen her parents do, and she could picture herself kissing Bellamy with the emotions that threaten to explode in her chest. 

“How could I not?” He took a breath and stepped closer, like he’s preparing himself for the worst. (Or the best decision he’s ever made) “You’re my best friend, I’ve always liked you. But now—“ Bellamy stops talking when their feet touch, and Clarke follows his every move. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday, Clarke.” 

“Oh really?” She doesn’t know if her face is wet with happy tears, or if it’s just the rain against her cheeks. “What makes you want to marry me? I’m nobody special.” 

She thinks she’s telling the truth. She’s seen the way other girls giggle and look at her best friend, especially when Clarke is with him. Bellamy could have anyone he wanted, all he had to do is pick one. 

“I think you’re cute.” He says, and then he smirks like his little sister who gets anything she wants from him. Now, Clarke knew where Octavia Blake got it from. “And I also would get to kiss you whenever I want, but those are only two reasons out of a million.” 

“A _million_?” Clarke could feel her heart soar into the sky, not even fazed by another crack of thunder or the sounds of their mothers calling for them in the night. Then, Bellamy shuffled closer and tugged on her sleeve, and placed his lips gently on her left cheek. She doesn’t know what to say except and shake her head, “Bell, you cant possibly have a million reasons.” 

She doesn’t even think she could count that high yet. She’s only in seventh grade. 

“I do.” Bellamy replied, pulling away and squeezes her shaking fingers. “But, we have the rest of our lives to experience while I tell you each of them.” 

“You’re gonna tell me one every day?” 

Clarke wipes at his forehead, growing bold and slicking his wet curls back. The moonlight shines in his brown eyes, and she _really_ wants to kiss him when she looks up at him. 

“I promise.” He says, and then he’s pulling her back along the trail away from the sand so they could go home. She knew she would get in trouble, especially if her parents woke when she dashed out of the house in search for Bellamy. 

But, it was worth it. She found a boy who loved her, and a boy _she_ loved. They would be together forever, Clarke was sure of it. She could picture it almost too vividly — the white dress she would wear, hopefully allowed to bother her mother’s, the food and family surrounding them — and it feels like a dream. It scares her at a young age, that the possibility sounds so real she could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue every time she starts a sentence. 

* * *

“Niylah, you can’t tell him.” Clarke stressed, hoping that her voice was clear enough over the phone. She hadn’t been able to make many phone calls since she landed in Arkadia — she also forgot how cell service worked out here — and she had just got off the phone with Raven to tell her where she was. 

Now, she needed to call Niylah — a nurse member of her medical team who would be going into work today _without_ the senior advisor — and explain why she couldn’t tell anyone, especially Finn about why she was gone. 

This was something she could handle on her own, needing help from no one. She tugs on her ponytail, letting her blonde waves fall onto her shoulders. 

“What if he asks?,” Niylah asked, her voice high pitched and anxious. “You haven’t spoken to him in days, Clarke.” 

“That’s why he would understand if I went on a trip with my mother to another state—“ She pauses, not wanting her static to break once she got over a few hard bumps on the road. Once she’s situated again, “For an _urgent_ important meeting, it would be okay if I haven’t spoken to him.” sunglasses perched on her nose as the sun hits her dashboard. 

(Honestly, she was proud of herself for thinking of the excuse. Her mother barely payed attention to her, and although she adored Finn, she could use a break from his presence too.) 

She turns the air conditioner on full blast when the reflection heats up her steering wheel of her black Honda Civic, anxious of both nerves and the weather. 

She hadn’t been anywhere near as hot as Arkadia since she left six years prior, so it left Clarke fidgeting in her seat as she tried to wipe her brow of sweat. 

It would take getting used to. She grew up here, in the rural area of Arkadia where she was friends with a few kids from school and her horses. After her father passed away, her mother sold her white haired horse named Maya and that’s when her new life would begin. 

She was ripped away from everything she loved, because she felt lost and naive as an eighteen year old who had just graduated high school. Maybe, just _maybe_, it was the worst decision she possibly could of made at the time when she agreed to marry Bellamy. Her heart was broken from her father’s sudden death of a sickness that came out of nowhere, and she had been dating Bellamy for years by that point—So, she just ran for it—she got married. 

He was the only person she could confide in, to tell her what she was truly feeling instead of lying about how broken she was without her father. She allowed herself to be _vulnerable_ with him, and she needed that. 

Bellamy represented her life in Arkadia, and he always will be a crucial part of the woman she was today. 

A woman who’s moved on, who was about to get married and have the life she’s always dreamt of having—a perfect life, one her mother would approve of. 

“Niylah, please just tell him that I’m gone and won’t be back for a few days.” Clarke realized she had been quiet for a few minutes, as she dazed off down the familiar route to her old house. She hasn’t asked for anything extreme, just a minor lie that would only benefit her relationship in the long run. 

And even if Finn did find out, he would have nothing to worry about. _She chose him_. She wants to marry him. 

The other blonde sighed, “You got it. But can you tell me where you are, at least? Because it’s obvious that you’re lying to me.” Clarke could hear the sound of a bag being set down on the other line, like the girl had just gotten to work. 

She could trust Niylah, they’ve been friends for years. 

“I’m back in Arkadia,” Clarke said with flatlined lips. She would rather be anywhere else but here, “I need to clear some things up with an old friend, and then I’ll be back in Polis soon.” 

Her mind is too scattered, she doesn’t realize she’s driving with memory and a second instinct. 

“And you’re positive that Finn shouldn’t be told any of this?” Niylah says, and just like Raven, she’s looking out for Clarke to do the right thing. 

“Positive.” She says. 

She goes silent after hanging up the phone call, truly starting to wonder if this was good idea. Clarke shouldn’t be doing this, yet it’s something she _has_ to do. She pulls back on her gear shift, the car coming to a stop. She feels a wave of nostalgia hit her and she’s afraid she’s going to be sick. She sees it, she has a clear view of her house — the one she shared with Bellamy, the same Toyota truck that sat in the driveway made of dirt and skid marks. The _same_ everything. 

The only thing that’s changed is _her_. 

Clarke glances towards the manila colored folder that’s sitting in her passenger seat, holding the contents of the divorce papers that she’s held onto for so long. 

For so long, _too_ long, she’s told herself that she would never come back. That she would watch Arkadia’s fields, local shops and people become a closed chapter of her life. One she would never revisit, or want to come back to. It’s a place where she grew up, fell in love, and buried her dead father. 

It’s where she made friends. 

It’s where she came back home to everyday after school, having to walk most days since her father’s truck wouldn’t work half the time. 

It’s where she got married for the first time. 

Arkadia holds eighteen years of Clarke’s life under it’s belt, and it seems like she could never escape it. Her own foolish ways and tendencies caused her to come back for a sole purpose, the _one_ thing she swore she wouldn’t confront. 

She takes the folder in her hands and grabs her leather purse, knowing too well that the material would get ruined if she picked anything else. She lifts her sunglasses to rest on top of her head, and she turns her body so she could open the door. 

It was going smoothly. Clarke’s nerves under control, finger caressing her own ring to calm her anxiety, as she feels like she could do this. She was motivated and here for a mission, for a _purpose_. 

_It would be okay_. 

She tried to tell herself, and it was working. Her mind was empty besides thoughts of getting Bellamy to sign the divorce papers, completely focused.

Clarke _tries_ to block the memories that threaten to rush to her head when she opens the lock of her door and pushes it open. She looks down to the ground that usually would be dry with gravel. It must’ve rained a few days ago, the dirt mushy and smooth when she steps down. 

_Tried_, being the key word. She clutched the folder tightly to her chest, her hands were shaking against her plaid flannel that hug loose on her shoulders. When she gets out of the car, she shuts her eyes harshly until they burn — not willing enough to cry when she’s barely done anything yet — and gives herself a pep talk that consists of: _He’s probably moved on too_ or _he’ll realize how happy you are with Finn_. 

“Hey, this is private prop—“A deep voice hesitantly calls out, pausing only because he hears Clarke respond. 

She interrupted him, “Bellamy?” the words leave her mouth before she could think of saying them.

Then, she hears the sound of heavy paws running across wood towards her. “You’ve gotta be _kidding_ me—Clarke?” 

Clarke’s hand shields her from the blinding sun, resting against her forehead as she realizes who she was talking to after the initial shock passed on both ends. She didn’t expect to hear his voice so soon, as she was preparing to go up to the front door and knock, the plan repeating in her head until she sounded like an automated machine. _She had a plan_. 

But, she squints her eyes as an attempt to focus as she tries not to be alarmed with the pounding of her heart. 

He was the one person she came to Arkadia to see. _Bellamy_. When her gaze focuses on him, he’s standing tall with his jaw clenched and eyes darted away and focusing on anything but her presence. 

Over his white under top, he was wearing his signature red flannel that was so worn out, the black had faded to grey. His denim jeans hung low on his waist but fitted to his body, and most likely survived too many washes. 

Her heart wants to leap out of her chest at the sight, it’s been so long since she’s seen him. _Yeah_, at nineteen, he was attractive with his black curly hair and tan skin that shined under the sun, body just beginning to develop. But, _this_ Bellamy must’ve had his own personal gym somewhere because even through the material of his shirt, his muscles popped. (When she was with him, he barely cared about working out or staying in shape because he didn’t need to. He was always perfect in her mind, and he would keep himself in check most of the time.) 

If Clarke didn’t already know that she had missed six years of his life, Bellamy was a _man_ that she’d always thought he would be. He wasn’t a teenager struggling to make meets end, or caring about his sister, or _her_. He was a grown adult, just like her — and hopefully someone who would understand why she needs these divorce papers signed. 

She whispers his name to herself, oblivious to how she still hasn’t answered him. She was frozen next to her car, not knowing that to do or how to move forward. Until, he’s walking away and towards the front door again. 

She calls after him, “_Bellamy_!” A small smile threatens to grow on her face when he stops and turns her head. Maybe she still could get through to him, Clarke tries to catch up to him, jogging in his direction. _Don’t think about anything else but those papers_. “We need to talk.” 

“Talk? I don’t need to do anything.” He says, hissing at her. 

Those were the first words he’s said to her in six years. _Six years_. Clarke flinched backwards, keeping her distance as tension between them rises. “I just need you to sign the divorce papers, Bell.” She takes a breath. 

She expected him to be angry, but not treat her like the worst person he’s ever met. She didn’t expect any of this to happen, but here she was: standing in front of a man she never thought she’d see again. 

“You think nicknames are going to work on me, Clarke?” Bellamy basically spat towards her, hand reaching for the door knob and he twists. He still hasn’t looked at her in the eye, and it hurt her more than she’ll ever admit. All she wants to do is stare at him, but he won’t let her as his back is turned to her.

He snarled. “Cause you’ve got another surprise coming, _princess_.” 

Calling him _Bell_ wasn’t intentional, it was an instinct of her tongue. The way he called her by her old nickname from school, the one she hated when it didn’t come from him, it stung deep. It felt like a dagger to her heart, but instead of letting it pull her down to his level of stubbornness—she uses it to her advantage, and lets herself get angry. 

There’s a sudden rage that she feels when she looks at him, it’s red and pulsing and all she could see through her blue eyes. 

“If you hate me so bad,” Clarke exclaimed with a wild gesture, knuckles white as she holds onto the folder. “Then sign the papers, Bellamy.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” He replied and turned around, and Clarke gasps when they finally lock eyes. Her heart rate speeds up, both of anger and a lost feeling. “You’re the one who came back after six years, asking something of me like you still _care_.” She wasn’t sure if it was because they were surrounded by sunlight, but the only thing she could see was his tilted head looking down at her. 

She knows him too well — he’s hurt too. 

She hurt them _both_. 

She could hear it in his voice, hollowed and empty of emotion. Clarke couldn’t help but ask herself why he hasn’t moved on if she has, if he’s that hung up on their past. 

“I-I’ve always cared.” Clarke did her best not to stutter, back straight and voice unwavering. She couldn’t let her emotions shine through, she’s just as distraught and pained as he was. “You know that.” 

“Maybe, I would’ve believed the old girl that I was married to.” Bellamy said, and it felt like an honest slap in the face. It hurt so much that her eyes watered, “But not you.” 

_I was married to you_. It’s been six years since he’s told her those words. 

“_Bellamy_,” Clarke reasoned, wanting him to just understand why she was here in the first place. “I _need_ you to sign the divorce papers.” If he wanted her to leave, she would only do so after he signed them. She clasps her hands behind her back, just for a second, as she tries to overturn her diamond and make it seem as if it was a regular ring she would wear. For now, she decides to tell only a piece of the truth hoping he hasn’t noticed. She says, “I’m with someone.”

She doesn’t want to think about how he’d act if he knew she was engaged to someone else, after so much time, and after leaving her whole life behind. 

He froze, "That's why you came back? Cause you need something from me?" Bellamy won't dare look her in the eyes, trained on the wooden plank beneath their feet. He won't look away, and Clarke wonders what he's thinking about. "That's just too bad, isn't it?” 

There's a venom, a sharpness to his words that she's never heard before. 

She doesn't think about the fact that he's upset with her, she's too busy thinking about what she would do now. Because, the only way she would keep from bothering him was if he gave her what she wanted.

“Bellamy,” She shakily sighed, reaching for his hand to grab to let him know that this was important to her. 

”_You_—“ Bellamy flinched, eyes shutting painfully as he pulled his arm away. “Don’t even try.” 

What she came back for, these divorce papers, it was the only way she would leave him alone. That was her only exception. 

Bellamy’s hand twitches at his side, and for a moment, she thinks that he would reach up and caress her face — like he always did when she was sad, or needed comfort — but this was different. She _was_ sad, but he wouldn’t give her what she needed. 

She looks down at the wooden porch that she’s standing on, giving her a distraction while noticing that it’s changed since the last time she was here. It was actually built properly, with a four-step staircase on the side from the garden. That’s when it hits her, Bellamy had done it himself without her, having no one to show it off to. 

“Please?” She asks hoarsely, keeping her arms strictly to her sides to avoid any more problems. She couldn’t get on his bad side when she wants one single thing from him, but her heart _ached_ right along with him. 

“I can’t, Clarke.” He apologized although his voice was softer than it was before. He was letting her down easy, and Clarke didn’t fee anything. She felt numb, angry to why he was being so hard headed. _She used to be his person_. “I don’t know you anymore.” 

“I came all the way back to Arkadia with these papers, Bellamy. " She explains, after she feels a single tear fall down her cheek. In that moment, she thinks of how she left him behind, of how left with a simple goodbye and nothing more. Then, she thinks of Finn, the man she's engaged to. Somehow, both situations feel similar - her heart is torn, broken apart as it screams for someone to cherish it. "I came back to give them to you." 

"Maybe you shouldn't of came back in the first place." Bellamy argued, his voice hoarse as he tries to keep his own tears from falling. "You should've known better than to ask me to sign those papers, after everything you put me through," He twists the door knob and keeps his hand in place, fighting himself to say one last thing to the woman who broke his heart. "Or lack thereof." 

It struck Clarke so bad, the raw truth of it all as she stumbled with her balance. He just had to remind her of their time apart, of how she just left him. For the past six years, she’s dug her regret so deep into her heart that it was a feeling she didn’t know existed anymore. 

Bellamy didn't move, didn't bother to reach for her. 

_Things have changed_. Clarke felt stupid to think that he would sign the papers willingly. Not only, was she still his weakness - something she thought would work in her favor - but he was using his vulnerability around their relationship to his advantage. Showing how strong he's become, how his love for her made him strong. 

"Why don't you take that nice car and drive it back to Polis, it's where _this_ Clarke belongs," Bellamy keeps adding fire to the flame that's burning her up inside, just throwing his sorrow straight in her frowning face. "The old Clarke wouldn't of abandoned her family and leave when things got tough." His voice cracks towards the end of his sentence, and he turns to walk inside with long strides so that he doesn't have to see her for a second longer. 

When the door shuts, she hears Bellamy's muffled voice and sounds of heavy paws hitting the floor repeatedly as it jumps in the air and lands back down again. 

It's the same sound she heard earlier when Bellamy first recognized her. 

It was their - _his_ \- dog, Picasso. (She only remembered him as a puppy, and he was the one who allowed her to name the newborn) 

She's always loved art, and there was one point in her life where Clarke thought she would always love Bellamy. 

When she realizes, truly, that so much time has gone by...that's when she feels the agony of her heart breaking apart. 

The _same_ heart that she thought Finn had mended back together. 

* * *

**JULY 5TH 2000 **

********

"You still haven't told me what you got on the Algebra test, Bell." Clarke raised her brows, although her eyes filled with affection as she looked up at her boyfriend. They had been walking home from school together for as long as they could remember, and it never got old. She naturally enjoyed just being with him, and with his arm draped across her shoulder keeping her close to him - nothing else in the world felt like it could compare to that feeling. When Bellamy playfully scoffs, it makes her smile. "I'm the one who helped you study for it." 

"So, I should thank you for getting me a 94?" He sheepishly asked, nudging her hip with his. Clarke gasps in surprise and shoves him away, "Because I think it was all me, babe." 

"I made the flash cards, you idiot."

Bellamy pulled her back to his chest, his head resting on top of her's as she nuzzles into his warmth. She would much rather be cuddled into him during a hot day, which is most, than not being touched because of the weather. "Yeah, I know." Bellamy says in response, letting her know he had been teasing her before. "Now, I can finally pass the class and graduate on time." 

He sighs, and Clarke could cry out of pure relief - it's all she's ever wanted for him, to be happy and successful - and now he didn't have to worry. 

"I'm proud of you, Bellamy." Her voice is muffled against his t-shirt, but luckily he heard her the first time. He cradles her face in her hands, and lifts her chin for them to lock eyes. It's the most beautiful shade of blue he's ever seen, and he can't stop staring at every feature on Clarke's face.

They stay like that for a moment, and Clarke's cheeks go red and warm under his palms.

"Gonna stare at me all day?" She adjusts her stance, fingers curling around his wrists to keep him close. They both forget they were on their way home, in the middle of the sidewalk in one of the only parts of town where there's shops on both opposite ends of the street, and people around them. She loves it, the feeling of being totally captivated by the boy in front of her. "Cause it get's boring quickly." 

It makes Bellamy chuckle, and the curls that frame his forehead move with the notion. "I could do that, if you want. I don't mind." 

"How about-" Clarke bites her lip, trying to find a place where they could relax and just roam around for a little while longer. Her eyes widen when she finds it, and she squeals like a little girl. “Over there!” 

_'Lincoln's Pet Store' _ It read, in small block letters above the corner shop at the end of the street. 

Bellamy's mouth is open to ask questions, but then he follows her gaze - and although he loved animals, he groaned in response to Clarke's excitement. 

She's pulling him along, their intimate moment long forgotten as he follows her into the pet store; practically having to jog to keep up with her. Clarke immediately gravitates towards a golden retriever, which he soon learns is only two months old, and his heart melts at the sight of his girlfriend cradling the puppy in her arms. The puppy was jumping in her embrace, daring to climb over her shoulder as she tried to hold him steady. 

"Baby, please." She pleaded, then she giggles when the puppy licks her cheek. "Can we get him?" 

"Clarke, it's a dog." He explained, wondering if she was acting on impulse or desire to take the puppy home. _Probably both_, if he was honest with himself. However, the nicknames she had for him had clearly played into her advantage since he's already moving closer to caress the dog on it's head with soft strokes through his fur. Bellamy looks up, as Clarke tries to pry the puppy away from licking her hair that's hooked behind her ear in a braid - and it's a sight he wants to see for the rest of his life. "Are you sure you want him?"

Then, the dog begins to lick his fingers and look up at him with big brown eyes, and it was a moment he would cherish forever. He was a _goner_. 

"It could be our dog, if you want." Clarke suggested, hugging the puppy to her chest as she tries to ease her aching jaw from smiling too much. "Let's raise him together." 

"Together?" Bellamy asked softly, repeating it to himself. They were definitely too young to have kids, but if a puppy would make them both happy and look forward to the future they can have together - then, so be it - they were getting a dog and raising it. 

"You wanna name him?" 

"You choose" Bellamy decides, taking the puppy from Clarke's arms to cradle him. She whines at the loss of contact, but takes a moment to admire the scene in front of her: her boyfriend was holding their new puppy that they would have together. For some odd reason, he blushes red. “If I'm honest, all I know are Greek gods and those names are too hard to pronounce." 

She cracks a smile at the joke, "I've got one." 

"Tell me after we pay," Bellamy cuts her off before she tells him, because just like his mother said: _don't give names to things unless you want to be attached to it_, and he needed to wait before things got serious. 

(He should’ve applied that rule to the people in his life too, but he didn’t know anything then.) 

* * *

For the first time, Bellamy reaches into the back corner of his bedside drawer and takes out his wedding band from six years ago. He stares at it all night, afraid that Clarke coming home was just an illusion. Yet, he stood up also wondering if it was a dream or a nightmare? 

If he described the morning as a dream, he would think that she would rest beside him when he woke up in the morning. That somehow they could fix the years of neglect and pain without saying a single word.

If he used nightmare, he would recognize the sinking realization that pierced his heart with every breath that he _lost_ her six years ago. 

But now—_Now_ she was back. 

* * * 

For Clarke, it was a better idea to drive in circles in these small streets so that her blurry vision of tears wouldn’t put her at risk to crash. 

She was alone, and confused. How could she feel like this? Arkadia was her home, and she doesn’t even want to be here anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two should be up in a few days! thank you for reading! 
> 
> A few disclaimers: there was two flashbacks in this chapter, indicated by the BOLD text. hopefully you guys understood that, how are we liking the fic so far? hopefully it’s decent enough <3


	2. I’m Sorry For Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was tugging them along towards the open bar, most likely waiting for someone else. The three of them looked like such a unit together, and if twenty-something year old Octavia was anything like her teenage self, she was the destructive one that either encouraged Jasper’s antics or Monty’s experiments. 
> 
> Clarke could feel hot tears welling up in her eyes, not wanting to believe that she wasn’t here to witness the transformation of her friend as she grew up. 
> 
> She was _too_ busy growing up, herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. Thank you so much for the love on the first chapter! I’m so excited to see where this story goes, so please stay tuned! 
> 
> This chapter deals with an introduction to multiple characters, such as Wells, Octavia, Jasper and Monty. Hopefully you guys enjoy the mess of Clarke’s mind for this second chapter <3

> “_Something's been creeping into my head_  
_Turning my thoughts into a dizzy head_  
_Something's been messing up my bed_  
_Stealing my dreams and now I'm getting no rest_” — **_YOU GOT ME_** \- **JASON CHAIN**

* * * 

She had no idea how long she had been driving, her hands had a mind of their own as she swerved into familiar territory. 

At this point, she didn’t care. 

The sunset had just passed, the reflection of the moonlight against the pavement was all she had to navigate her path. Most of the street lights were dim or useless in the blackout nights that Arkadia was used to.

Clarke’s sunglasses were long gone and thrown into the bottom of her purse— luckily, Bellamy wasn't there to remind her of her sudden privilege—and Clarke decides to pull over to park next to an open field. She had been driving around in circles, trying to pass time and figure out what she's going to do. She passed the old grocery store that makes her think if Brian or Nathan Miller were still the owners, but the lights were dark inside meaning it was closed. She didn't know them much anyways, she argued to make her heart feel less heavy. As she turned the corner on one of the only busy streets in her small town, she sees '_ Lincoln's Pet Store _' in the same exact spot from before. Although now, there's a few letters that have peeled off the banner to make the title incomplete. 

She figures it represents her life right in that moment. 

Torn. 

Confused. 

_ Broken._ It's the place where she picked out Picasso, where she took him home and begged Bellamy to let her have the night with her— so the puppy could get familiar with her parents and her town house—while he went searching for supplies a few miles down the road. Clarke feels a hard tug in her heart, and she embraces the pain that fills her body with an ache that she hasn't felt in so long. Her hands were beginning to tremble as she passed the store, feeling anxious and guilty for even thinking of leaving Bellamy to deal with their dog alone. She did that. _ She left him _. 

It's what makes her want to stop driving, to take a moment to breathe. She doesn't dare go anywhere near Bellamy's house, so she settles going north to a place she was familiar with. Where she was going, it was a house with a wooden fence and a door that's almost always open. 

Clarke would tell Wells repeatedly that It was unsafe, but _ this _ was Arkadia - not the busy city streets and crowded apartment buildings of Polis - so he manages to shut her up when he brings up the reality of things.

She needed a distraction. But, more importantly, she needed someone to talk to. 

Plus, she hadn't seen her closest family friend in years; having always spoke on the phone when she was in Polis and couldn't come to visit. He wouldn't ask her to come back, but he would bring up the idea of going to one of her fundraisers to see her in person and hang out. It was one of the things she liked most about Wells, he would talk to her like she didn't leave. Like she didn't do anything wrong. 

She listens to the hum of the car engine shutting off as she parks to rest, but only for a second, as she rummages through her purse to find her cell phone. She finds it under her makeup bag - she wonders why she even brought that stuff, it was too hot here to even consider putting on a full face - and her thumb grazes over the home button to activate her touch ID. 

Finn texted her in the afternoon, and although she's relieved that Niylah lied to him and grinned when she reads the message: 

**Finn** : _ Tell your mom I said hello! Missing you here at lunch with me, XO _. 

She texts back something simple, not wanting to throw him off: _ I will, I love you, see you soon _!

Clarke tries not to think about how she's been lying, having hope that this would work out in the end. She may be missing him or wanting him to tell her that everything would be okay, but this next step of getting Bellamy to sign the papers would solidify how she feels about Finn. She stayed focused, and even if she got turned down today for a _ stupid _ reason - it would only motivate her to push further. (She would also have to talk to her mother in the morning, if she wanted her to know the truth) 

Finn was her _ fiancée _. Her mother had told her when she was younger that as Clarke got older, her heart would make better decisions and grow stronger. She would know instantly who she loved. 

She loved Finn. She knew this, and has known for the past three years. (Although, she thinks back to twenty minutes prior when she remembers walking down the same sidewalk that led to Lincoln's store with Bellamy when she was seventeen, and suddenly she feels like she doesn't _ know _ anything.) She blames her doubt on the feeling of nostalgia, of remembering the good times she had. It _ couldn't _ mean anything else. 

Clarke doesn't feel brave enough to admit it aloud. She's afraid of being caught up in her old life. 

_ She doesn't want to get pulled back in _. 

So, she keeps her mouth shut and dials Well's phone number because she's too anxious to search through her contacts. His eight digit number was something she remembers on instinct, like muscle memory. There was a time where she called him every day when she first got to Polis, to ask him how he's doing and ask about his father's management of the only bar in town. 

It was a good conversation starter back then, especially when she didn't know what to say - _ especially _ when all she wanted to do was ask about Bellamy -and things would get awkward. 

Clarke holds the phone to her ear, sudden nerves turning into butterflies in her stomach and up her throat that makes her feel like she would burst into tears at the sound of her best friend's voice. She waits until the second ring, and she debates ending the call incase he was busy, but then she hears him. 

"Clarke?" She was taken back by the surprise in his deep voice. He sounds almost frantic. "Is that you?" 

She hasn't called him in over a year, and he doesn't ask why. _ He should be upset with her _. 

But, he wasn't. 

The realization makes her sigh into the speaker, her eyes filling with tears. God, she missed him. She missed the awe in his voice when he recognized her voice, and for right now, he was the first person who was happy to see her back home. 

"Wells," She says his name with a smile, as her fingers pluck at the ripped material of her jeans as a nervous habit. She just had to ask him, "How are you?" 

"I'm good, _ great _ now that you've called." She figures that he’s sitting down somewhere, when a chair creaks with weight on the other line. 

"I feel the same, it's nice to hear your voice." In that moment, she wishes that she called him more often. "I have a favor to ask, if that's okay." 

"It depends, Griffin." He hummed, replying with a question of his own. "We need to spend a little more time together if you need a kidney from me." He chuckled at his own jokes, always has since he thinks his humor is best and in return, Clarke giggled. "I’m just saying!" He warned, but it was a precaution she would gladly take. 

"I don't need a kidney—or any body part from you." Clarke clarified with a huff, sweeping her hair to one side on her shoulder to avoid sticking to the back of her neck with nervous sweat. Then, she reminds herself that she's talking to Wells, and she didn't need to worry. "But, can I come over?" 

"Come over?" He says the words slowly, trying to piece things together. "Are you in Arkadia?" He pauses, gasping in surprise when Clarke's silence is telling him his answer. "What happened, are you okay?" 

“It’s about Bellamy,” She swallows the lump in her throat before continuing. “He won’t sign the divorce papers, so I came back.” 

“Oh, I see.” Wells said, “So you came back only for him?” And Clarke knew that he must’ve been scratching his chin or something along those lines, he was always a tease with her. 

When she first left Arkadia, she had told him that Bellamy would be the only reason she’d ever come back here, and hearing it aloud was something she hadn’t come to terms with. 

She bites her lip while Wells tells her, “I figured it was something about him, and you know my door is always open.” If she could see him in person right now, she imagines the smile growing on his face. “How far are you from the house?” 

“I’ll be there in fifteen, and thank you for letting me come over.” Clarke has so many things she wants to say. Although she settles for a small show of gratitude because it’s all she feels is necessary. She tries to multi task while putting her car in drive after looking in her rear view mirror to find the street empty. 

“It’s the least I could do.” Clarke nods as if he could see her, and right before she hangs up, Wells replied “as a thank you for coming back _ home _.” 

She had no idea what to say to that, to sooth any broken bridges between them in their friendship — so she hangs up the phone with a quivering lip and words stuck in her throat. 

* * *

"I wasn't expecting any guests," Wells apologized, rubbing the back of his neck to avoid her lingering gaze around the living room. "So I apologize for the mess." 

Clarke shakes her head as she recalls her life in Polis, it’s the only thing she could do as she’s afraid to speak. So many memories replay in her head as the reality of being in her childhood second home, it was consuming her. She closes the door behind her, and sets her purse down on the nearest coffee table. She looks around, a sense of warmth bubbling in her chest because she spots a familiar picture that's perched on top of the mantle. She avoids the blankets, half filled plastic cups, and jackets that scatter on the carpet floor so she could make her way over to the one thing that caught her eye. 

She picks up the frame, thumb brushing over the glass. 

"Why on _ Earth _ do you have this picture?" She laughs, admiring how the sky was bright and how she had her arm wrapped around Well's shoulder. Her blonde waves had stuck to her skin like a second skin, because she was like a fish to water when she was younger. She tried not to cringe at the amount of sand that covered her body, or how she isn't smiling because the overbearing sun in her eyes was is making her face scrunch instead of smile. “I look horrible—could you, _ I don’t know _, at least of picked a better picture to frame?" 

"Isn't this what best friends do?" Wells smirked, walking over to Clarke as she turns around to let him see what she was holding. "I just had to frame the ugliest picture of you, it's mandatory." 

"Oh, really?" Clarke asked while rolling her eyes playfully. 

Wells takes the frame from her hand, and looks at it carefully. His young face was adorned with a wide grin, and Clarke avoids looking at him again because he must be thinking of how much things have changed. How their friendship has changed. The familiar lump in her throat grows, and she waits for him to talk. 

It's only silent for a few seconds, but Clarke fights the urge to walk away because it feels like it’s been forever. She hates awkward silence, yet she had no idea how to progress a conversation she never thought she’d have. 

She had to face her mistakes at some point. She had to apologize, beg for forgiveness if needed, anything to make things right. 

"You left for a long time," He says after a while, as he knew what to say to her now. He doesn't sound angry, but she could always tell when he's holding back how he truly feels. "I missed you for the past six years and there's a lot of people here who did too." Clarke flinched at his words, and she doesn't dare make a sound because she shouldn't be the one to cry. It was her fault for not reaching out to her friends, and she had to hear someone say it. "But, I'm not here to judge you for making a name of yourself and falling in love—I’m just happy you're here." 

He lets out a deep sigh. Like it was a conversation that he’s been desperate to have for years, like he was holding it inside the depths of his soul for the time she’s been gone. 

Clarke could see him place the picture frame down where it originally stood in the corner of her eye, and she thinks that he won't reach out and console her. But, in a split second, she was wrapped in his arms and pulled to his chest. She tightens her grip around his waist and cries into his shirt, letting his words sink in. She knew she made a mistake by not calling Wells more often, not visiting him when she had free time or holiday breaks because in reality—she missed having him around—and she couldn’t believe she hasn’t been back in Arkadia for six _ years _. 

She couldn’t believe that she just let him go, just _ like _ Bellamy. 

The thought of hurting Bellamy and Wells, the two most important men and best friends she’s ever had. It made her break down even more, as she sniffles away from the wet spot on the front of Well’s shirt. 

“You know what sucks,” She began to rant and he pulls away to rest his hands on her shoulder. He was always there for her. “This place still looks the exact same from the last time I was here.” 

That’s what hurt the most. 

The fact that everything stayed the same. Like she never left. 

There was the crack in the mantle that stood in front of her, it was _ her _ fault that it broke. Multiple picture frames of Well’s childhood that she’s apart of, caught mid moment as she’s laughing so hard that her stomach aches. She remembered when his mother used to save leftovers for her, since she came by so often. It would be a small container labeled with her name and it would be the first thing she saw when she opened up his freezer on the weekends. 

His house held so many memories. It held a piece of her heart, always. 

It makes Wells crack a small smile, the ends of his lips curl upwards as he tries to calm her down. “I didn’t have to leave to find myself, to become who I am now.” 

“Do you think I had a reason?” Clarke asks him, voice barely audible as she tears herself away from his embrace and steps back. Now, she’s thinking of what Bellamy told her, how she left Arkadia when things got tough. She repeats her sentence when Wells tilts his head with narrowed eyes. It seems selfish of her to ask someone else, “That I had a authentic reason to leave? When I had you, _ and _—“ she holds back a sob that forms in the back of her throat, the thought of saying Bellamy’s name was enough to make her want to rethink her entire life. 

Wells cuts her off when he noticed her trouble, “However, _ you _ had to leave to turn into the woman you are today.” 

Clarke rubs her hands down her face to get rid of tear stains, as Wells stood in front of her at a loss for words for her vulnerable state. She isn’t even sure if she likes the person she is, and she feels scared knowing that she’ll have to confront those doubts on this trip. 

“I know that you didn’t want to leave.” Wells justifies for her, swallowing thickly to keep his emotions back. “You just had your mom breathing down your neck telling you what to do, and you went along with it. Clarke, _ you _ have a life that you could only dream of because of your mom taking you to Polis.” 

“I could’ve stayed.” Clarke blurts, eyes wide as she realizes she had no control over her immediate response. “I was scared, nervous, and so sad about my dad, Wells.” A lame attempt to give her reason, but it was the truth. 

Wells huffed, then she watched as it turned into a frown. “I told you to stay, but I realize now that I couldn’t convince you.” He frowns, and it makes her think of when Wells called her in tears saying that his mother had passed away in a car accident. It was a sore spot for them both, to know that they had to experience the same trauma of losing a parent. Clarke clenches her fists to keep from pulling him into a hug, “We all deal with loss differently, and I had to let you go.” 

“Wells,” Clarke tries to reason, sighing his name. 

“It’s okay, Clarke.” He assures instead, and he grabs her hand to console whatever regrets she has towards him in the past. He was full of surprises, so full of forgiveness. 

“It’s not,” Clarke shook her head at her herself, hating how she acted back then. 

“It’s _ understandable._” Wells reasoned and then he begins to walk away, hand ruffled in his short hair. He starts to forgive himself too, of how he may of acted towards her when Clarke first left. He walks towards the door, quietly as he picks up his washed out denim jacket from the rack. 

Clarke stands there, frozen as she tries to fill in the puzzle in her mind. Was he leaving her in his house, _ alone _? She wipes at her cheeks again, afraid to speak or ask what was happening. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” He says, and Clarke is seconds away from asking if he’s going crazy. He was always adventurous, that’s why they were always so troublesome together. He was the third person in her friend group...the _ second _—she doesn’t want to think about the other man on her mind right now.

Wells says, “I’m taking you out.” 

“_Huh_?” Clarke asks him, dumbfounded and having no actual reason to say no to him. “You’re kidding, right?” Because knowing the local places around her, the town is too small and too connected for anyone _ not _ to realize that she was back. 

Maybe, it was her new sense of style that she formed back in Polis—but it’s the only reason why she gestured to her red plaid flannel and denim jeans—as something she wouldn’t wear in public anymore. When Wells doesn’t give up the notion, Clarke points the toes of her worn out horse riding boots. 

“I can’t go out like this, Wells.” She finally explained, and all the man does is laugh and slip the jacket sleeves through his arms. 

At least, his outfit was _ nice._ Instead of wearing regular blue denim, he wore a pair of black tight jeans that were lowcut, with a belt keeping them secure and a yellow mustard flannel that showed off his muscles. 

Clarke looked out of place. She felt like she shouldn’t be wearing these types of clothes, even when she grew up with them as a staple in her wardrobe. The _ new _ Clarke wouldn’t allow this, but she couldn’t argue with Wells. 

He was her best friend, who was letting her stay at his house while she was back in town for a few days. 

“Let your hair down, while you’re complaining about your outfit.” Wells tells her, as he twists the door knob open and allows the night breeze to brush against her exposed skin. He gestures to the high ponytail that has kept her hair up for most of the day, knowing she only tied it back because it was blowing in her face on the drive over here. _ It was for a reason _. 

She wanted to explain, but Wells has already grabbed her hand and began tugging her away so she could be led out of the house. 

“I just got here, Wells.” She groaned as she untied her ponytail and felt her waves fall onto her shoulders, at this point, she didn’t care how she looked like. She may of lost his debate, but she had to try. “I don’t wanna go out.” 

He doesn’t let go of her, even when he’s closing the door and walking down the steps of his front porch. Even in the darkness of the night, the air feels sticky and damp which makes her sleeves stick to her arms as she walks with him. 

Wells chuckles at her sunken face, at how he’s making her do something other than stay hidden in the shadows of a place she _ used _ to know. 

“You know this place like the back of your hand, Clarke.” He tries to make her feel better, because he knows she would regret not getting the experience of being old enough to go to local bars or clubs. The last time she was here, she was barely eighteen. “It’s your home.” 

It was a sad realization. 

To know that Arkadia was her home, but then she _ left _ . To know that Wells wants her to explore the town, explore her home and meet people that have most likely forgotten about her; when she left _ them _. 

To know that she’d rather hide, or go back to Polis with the risk of not being able to marry Finn because she doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

“You better get me a drink.” She says suddenly, finger pointed at his chest to let him know she means it. “Multiple, even.” 

Wells nods and nudges her with his elbow like it was a painless punishment to get her to leave with him. 

See, _ that’s the thing _ . Clarke is walking along side Wells, with only a few street lights and dim store-fronts with signs that barely work—even though she thinks she doesn’t want to be apart of this, and _ yet _ she’s going along with it—and it makes her wonder if she was ever meant to leave this place. 

Would she have left Arkadia if it wasn’t for her mother? 

One quick glance at her best friend with his hands burrowed in his pockets, or a long thought about her ex Bellamy and how much he seems to hate her now that she’s back—she _ doesn’t _ know if she would of. 

Because she’s lost so much. She feels like a stranger walking down streets she once knew, she feels like a _ ghost _. 

* * *

Clarke couldn’t sit still, as she waited impatiently for reality to sink in. A part of her wishes she was back in Polis, with Aurora Blake’s bar as a distant memory if she closed her eyes. Although, one glance at the growing line for playing pool or beer pong _ or _ the buzz of endless conversations around her—the most popular local spot in Arkadia hasn’t changed. 

The walls were covered in patchy wallpaper, instead of the crusty and peeling yellow paint that was there before. If Clarke didn’t feel like such an outsider, she would want to smile at the change. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Wells taps her palm with the underside of his glass, and she flinched with the cold of the alcohol in his cup. 

Clarke nods mindlessly, “Totally.” Her gaze entranced by the lights of the speaker in the corner of the room. 

“Really?” Wells raises his brows in suspicion, then takes a long swing of his vodka mixture. “What am I talking about?” 

Okay, _ fine _. She wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, but he shouldn’t blame her. Clarke was upset over sitting in Aurora’s bar, absolutely afraid to see anyone she once knew. Of course, Wells would want to throw her into the unknown fire to watch her get burned. 

She hasn't been in this place for six years, she said a final goodbye to her friends under the chime of the front door. 

Clarke shrugs in defeat, and groans. 

“Don’t be mad,” She pleads. “I got caught up in everything, this place looks the same.” 

“You’ve been saying that the entire night.” Wells raises his brow, like he wants answers for the whirlwind of thoughts in her head. “Did you think Arkadia would change completely once you left?” 

Clarke bites her lip. She picks up her Gray Goose martini, and takes a long swig until half of the cup is gone. A bit of liquid courage would help, she knew. It shouldn’t be an hard question to answer, and she’s had years to think about her success. If she stayed in Arkadia, she wouldn’t nearly be as well known in the medical field. She wouldn’t be as _ successful _. 

If she didn’t leave, she would still have a list of things:

Her first husband. 

She would’ve had frequent visits at her father’s grave. 

Her dog. 

Her friends. 

And as of right now, she didn’t know which of those things she would give up now if she saw the woman she was today, six years ago. 

“It’s been a long time, that’s all.” She says simply, not wanting to elaborate on how she truly feels. (She doesn’t even know left from right anymore, so she’d rather be safe than sorry.) 

Wells looks at her sideways, and Clarke pouts. 

“Wells, I barely know how I feel about all of this right now.” She reasoned, and taps her fingers against her glass. She looks down at the table, reminded of every moment she’s had in this room. It hits her at once, how happy she was here. Clarke muttered, “I thought I’d never come back.” 

“I know how hard this is for you, and trust me—I don’t want to be the one to push you to talk about why you left for six years.” Wells explained, his tone soft as if he’s talking to a child. He could never be angry at her, not when she means so much. Not when she’s here. “But, I know when you’re holding back.” 

“I already told you why I left.” 

“The _ real _ reason.” Wells said. “You were a grown adult by the time you got the MD job at Polis Memorial, you could’ve came back if you wanted.” 

Her silence is his answer, and she slumps back against the hard frame of the booth not minding the discomfort. 

Clarke feels her eyes burn, but she nods her head anyways. She couldn’t fight his words. Not when he’s _ right _ . She spent so long trying to keep her true self, true identity in the depths of her soul. So that she could fit in, so she could become someone important. Someone that she would be _ proud _ of. 

“You’re right.” She whispered, and she hoped that he heard her because it would break her composure if she had to repeat it. “And I’m sorry.” 

“Enough of that,” Wells reaches over and places a hand on top of hers, “I don’t wanna hear any more ‘sorry’s’. Let’s move forward.” 

“Together?” 

She just wanted someone on her side. 

“You know it.” Wells smiles. 

Clarke feels better, she feels like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She had her best friend back. (The thought of Bellamy eventually slips her mind, as she spent another hour catching up with Wells. She even got him to buy her another martini, so she thinks of it as a win.) 

The door chimes, the bell ringing as laughter erupts in the front of the bar. 

Clarke just has to look, as she feels too good about her situation right now. She was happy being here with Wells, she could enjoy other people’s joy for a second. 

She was laughing over one of Wells’ stories, one about how he had to chase a horse with his bicycle a few years ago, as she turned around in her seat. 

Clarke gasps, at seeing three people huddled together—arms slung around each other’s shoulders with cheeks flushed from heat and excessive laughter from many jokes—and she couldn’t help herself with what she does next. She downs her second martini in a split second. 

“Wells, why didn’t you—“ She hissed but then he cuts her off with a wild gesture of his hands, and she has to remind herself that he wouldn’t know about these things. 

“Clarke,” He warned with gritted teeth as a precaution to the shift between him and the blonde. The people who just came in, his other friends of twelve years, begin to scan the room and he can’t look away from them until Clarke kicks him lightly in the shin. He ducks his head down quickly, “I had no part in this.” 

She wants to believe him, she really does, but this can’t be a coincidence. 

_This was really happening. _

“I haven’t seen her in so long.” Clarke says in a daze, making sure to duck behind the frame of the group of men in the booth behind her so the guests don’t see them. She’s hoping it works, because then she won’t be able to stare at the woman Octavia Blake had become. 

The youngest Blake had her arms wrapped tightly around Monty Green, one of the smartest kids from primary school who rocked a bowl cut for most of childhood, and Jasper Jordan, a boy who wore sunglasses in the winter and hated every subject but science. They were both the talk of the school when they tried to blow up the county’s only chemistry lab, it even made headlines in other states. 

She was tugging them along towards the open bar, most likely waiting for someone else. The three of them looked like such a unit together, and if twenty-something year old Octavia was anything like her teenage self, she was the destructive one that either encouraged Jasper’s antics or Monty’s experiments. 

Clarke could feel tears welling up in her eyes, not wanting to believe that she wasn’t here to witness the transformation of her friend as she grew up. 

She was _ too _ busy growing up, herself. 

Wells seemed to notice, as the bar erupted into chaos—one of the trio must’ve said something about the music being too low, as the bass suddenly got louder in her ears—and he leaned into Clarke’s space. 

“It’s not your fault.” Wells explained, as if he was trying to put the blame on anyone else instead of her. When in reality, she’s willingly causing herself pain because it’s her fault that she’s hurting. 

“No, Wells.” Clarke lets a single tear fall before she wipes it away quickly, “This is all on _ me _. I did this to myself.” 

_ Leaving Arkadia _. She chose to do that. 

Leaving with her mother for six years. _ She didn’t come back _. 

“What can I do?” Wells questioned softly, so gentle. “Let me help you feel better.” 

She blurts out the words before she could control herself, everytime Clarke blinks she could see Octavia’s smile in her mind. 

“Can you get me some drinks?” 

“I’m down for that,” Wells would always agree to more alcohol, as he began sliding out of his side of the booth to stop from sinking in the cushion. “What do you want?” 

_ She wants to escape_. 

_ She doesn’t want to face Octavia_. 

_ She wants to marry Finn_. 

“Tequila shots, as many as you could carry.” Clarke lazy smiles up at him as he nods with a mock salute and walks towards the bartender. 

It was her most commonly used tactic when being in situations that she doesn’t want to be in. 

She drinks until shes too tipsy to remember why she was at a certain event with her mother, intoxicated to the point where she confronts people she shouldn’t be talking to. 

Tonight, it wouldn’t be any different. 

Instead, she’s in a rusty bar that she grew up in, and not in a dining hall with a fancy dress on. 

She would drink until she forgets she’s in Arkadia, because _ maybe _ then, she could stop thinking so much about what could go wrong if Octavia found out she was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! I’m actually making progress on this whole “writing ahead of schedule” thing and I should have chapter three written fully tonight and published in a few days! 
> 
> please feel free to leave any comments or kudos, it means so much! 
> 
> (The song in the beginning of the chapter is from the original soundtrack for the movie. I’ll think about adding more song lyrics to more chapters in the future)


	3. Memories Bring Back You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She gasps, a sharp intake of breath that almost makes her throw up the alcohol she so willingly drank earlier—and a pair of arms sling around her waist so fast, that she doesn’t have time to fight whoever grabbed her—and she gets pulled back into someone’s chest. 
> 
> “After all these years,” Bellamy spoke in her ear, whispering his annoyance with a deep voice that still manages to give her the chills. “You’re still making me run after you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else missing Bellamy in this fic so far, yes? Good, cause our boy is making a comeback in this chapter. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys didn’t mind the lack of Bell in the previous chapter, but this fully sets us into story mode now. I hope you enjoy!

> “_Oh baby it's so warm_  
_Still I lay here thinking about the way I thought it would be_  
_But all my planning aside _  
_Now that I know what I know, I know I'll always love you_  
_Now that I see what I see I see it will always be_  
_Now that I got what I got I know I had it all along _  
_And I'll be your ground if you'll be my muse I can tie on to_.” **_NOW THAT I KNOW_** — **SHANNON MCNALLY**

* * * 

A few minutes pass, and Clarke waits anxiously for Wells to come back. She doesn’t want to worry about him planning a surprise re-introduction to her old friends, people she doesn’t even know anymore, but she can’t do anything else but let the feeling drown her in an ocean of silence. She kept her head down, thankful in that moment for listening to Wells when he told her to lose the ponytail because her blonde waves hid her face. She’s on alert, sensitive to any noise around her because the music is loud and she’d rather use that excuse if anyone wanted to talk to her.

If Octavia and the other’s hadn’t walked in, she wouldn’t be so full of nerves. She would be smiling at anyone who walked by, making funny faces at Wells while he ordered their drinks.

But, she wasn’t.

  
She couldn’t even move as fear took over her body.

She feels like at any given moment, she could hunch over and be sick from how her life came to be. Clarke was scared, fingers cold and clammy in the humidity of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt anxious around the younger girl, they had practically grown up together so nothing could change their sense of family. Octavia was her family, once upon a time. A time long long ago when she felt like Arkadia was the only town in the world, the only place she could see herself living in the rest of her life.

It already seemed that Octavia found a new group of friends, of people who have actually been there for her as she got older and had to understand the world around her, and Clarke felt a sense of guilt for even wanting to think about how they replaced her.

Or, how Clarke replaced _her_, too.

More guilt settled in the pit of her stomach, dragging her down so that she wouldn’t dare stand up and go find Wells herself. She lets out a groan, covering her face with both hands and closes her eyes harshly so that she feels the burn of a mix of sudden tears and frustration. How did she end up here? Why couldn’t she of been strong enough to end her relationship with Bellamy when she had first moved to Polis?

Why couldn’t she give him up when her life was beginning to set in stone?

Especially, when she knew she wouldn’t come back. She knew that she convinced that Bellamy was the stubborn one in this situation, because he won’t sign the papers or speak to her without wanting to stomp her heart on the ground—a heart that’s already bruised—but now, as she sits alone with her pulse beating a mile a minute and an urge to walk out of his mother’s bar, Clarke knows she was the one at fault. She _was_ stubborn.

A person who lacked the motivation to do long distance with her own husband, when she was clutching to her mother’s words for a better future because her father had just died. In a time where she should’ve reminded herself that she had someone who would be comfort her in any way, she abandoned him to find healing somewhere else.

She hears the words replay in the back of her mind, “_We can’t move on if we stay here_.”, a whisper into Clarke’s ear as she looked up at her mother during a rainy day in November, the morning after her father’s funeral.

At that time, Clarke felt like she shouldn’t be listening to anyone else. She had just gotten married to Bellamy, a cloud of sunshine and happiness coming to an end after just one month. She didn’t want to be around him most of the time, as she forced herself to smile when he frowned over any sign that showed him that she wasn’t sleeping.

Red eyes. Dark under eye circles that eventually looked like bruises.

She would push him away when he wanted to console her when she cried, and she disappeared into the night to walk to her mother’s house to climb into her parent’s bed and wake her mother up so they could talk for hours.

She was a terrible person, she now realized.

She pushed away the only person who tried to pull her back down into reality. Into a world that didn’t have the glow of her father’s grin, and Clarke wasn’t ready for that. She felt like everywhere she went: her high school, the park, the beach, she would see his face.

Then, she gets tapped on the shoulder.

“I hope you’re not falling asleep on this table,” A low voice teased her, and she jumps in her seat and pulls her hands away from her face. She expected to see Wells, the reason for his voice lowering an octave was because he was already drinking his share of shots. But, this person had short black hair with bangs that covered his forehead. When her eyes widen in surprise, the guy laughs and his eyes wrinkle.

He shoves his hands deep into his cargo pants, “I didn’t think Arkadia would be that boring for you after this long.”

“Monty?” Clarke gasps, and it’s all she could say. She wouldn’t call him one of her close friends, but she would always go to him if she needed to compare class notes or one of those big study groups that him and Jasper started before a chemistry test. He was always a person she could count on if she needed him.  
He looked like a different version of the boy she knew.

When they were in school, he would keep to himself unless Harper (Clarke wondered if she ever left too, she was great at dealing with kids and Polis had great schools.) or Jasper were around.

He was mostly shy, and afraid of sneaking any glances at Bellamy if they walked in the hallway at the same time.

(It wasn’t until Bellamy punched Cage Wallace in the face for pushing Monty against the brick wall outside of the school, just for having a strong dislike towards the boy for getting higher grades—that Monty began to get close with him too after all that time of being afraid)

  
“Shouldn’t I be the one that’s surprised to see you?” Monty tilts his head at the question as Clarke bites the inside of her cheek. “Cause after so long, I didn’t expect to see you back here.”

  
He explains himself as if he expects Clarke to think that Arkadia was the worst place to come from, that she should’ve stayed away.

And it was farthest from the truth.

  
She just didn’t want to come back when she had her life remade, her identity molded into a success story because of her mother. When she was moving on from the pain of her past.

That’s what she was leaving behind: her broken pieces.

Clarke wished she could’ve taken everything she loved about Arkadia with her when she had to leave. She wished so bad that she could’ve wrapped up her friends, her Bellamy, her best memories, into a pretty bow and kept it close. It would’ve been better than dealing with the demons of regret and a constant fear of being confronted for the actions that she couldn’t control. It was the product of listening to her head, to following the routine of her mother—the only living parent she had left—so she would have a shoulder to lean on when her heart was hurting and empty.

When she was with Bellamy, she remembered how it felt to feel numb to his kisses as her heart tried to beat itself back to life with his attempted affection. (And it didn’t work.)

Clarke felt her throat tighten, because Monty’s appearance in front of her would only mean one thing. Wells was still gone, and she knew that they had just begun to mend their relationship in a day but she needed him to support her through this conversation. She didn’t know what to say to a man she hadn’t seen in years, or ask why he felt like talking to her.

“Have you seen Wells?” She asked in a shaky voice, not wanting to invest in this conversation anymore so she didn’t think much about how she acted so distant. Her hands gripping to the table as she adjusted in her seat as a habit, one that grew on when she was trying not to lose her sanity in new situations.

  
Monty shook his head with words dying on the tip of his tongue, and in that instant there’s a loud screech of one of the metal stools that could be heard throughout the room, and both of them turn to the direction of the sound.

Clarke is grateful for the distraction.

  
Until, she hears Wells call out in a worried tone: “_Octavia_!” He stumbled back almost like he had been shoved, the tray he would’ve brought to their booth was placed on the counter as Jasper stood to run after the girl who stomped out of the bar, hot on her trail.

  
“Monty,” Clarke swallowed thickly, as she turned around slowly to face the man who had fighting his urge to run after his friends too. He was shuffling on the heels of his feet, and she just had to ask him why he wasn’t bothered by Octavia’s outbreak. “Did she ask you to come over here and talk to me?”

She was hesitant to know his answer.

Somehow, the room was still lively with dozens of patrons and cheers of those who are playing darts or beer pong in the back. Like no one had seen what happened. There’s a faint smell of alcohol in the air when she inhaled sharply while waiting for an answer that she was sure was clear, Monty had been set up to talk to her just to get Octavia to notice. It made sense for him to listen to her. 

Clarke was shaking her head back and forth, not wanting to believe it.

“I noticed the blonde hair, and Jasper was the one to nudge me because he saw Wells get up—“ Monty paused to catch his breath with his nervous rambling, his shoulders slouched forward like the truth was overbearing and revealing slowly. He gestured his hands to the spot he had came from, three stools that were in front of the panel that would only be used for employees. “I just wanted to see for myself, y’know? I hoped it was you.”

  
She understood his curiosity, so she takes a breath and nods her head as a show of forgiveness.

  
“It’s okay.” Clarke finally replied, and tension relieved in her shoulders. She feels like she could breathe without being afraid to talk to someone that isn’t Wells, the one person she felt comfortable around the entire day. “I—_Uh_, it’s nice to see you doing good, Monty.”

He smiles, and the dim light above their heads is enough to make him glow with joy. “Thanks, my life turned out to be a good one.” 

“What do you do, now?” She was curious. 

“Forensics down at the police station that’s a few miles away, I went into the field right after college.” 

At least, he was doing what he loved.

  
“Really?” Clarke feels comfortable enough to tell him what she does, since he opened up the conversation. It’s the least she could do. “So I guess we’re both in the same field, then.”

He nods, because _of course_ he knew what she does for a living. It’s all over the _news_ everytime she saves a life. 

It doesn’t seem forced. Or one sided. She feels relieved to be talking to him about the past six years, so she doesn’t feel the need to keep anything to herself.

When she takes notice that Monty was having trouble standing still, either rocking forward on his toes or straightening his back from standing for too long—she clears her throat and cradles the back of her neck in comfort when she figures out a way to ask him to sit down—and she extends her other arm in front of her before he speaks.

  
“Do you wanna sit down?” Clarke blurts suddenly, just as his mouth opened to talk. 

When Monty stands motionless, she adds on. “I just don’t think Wells is coming back, and I could answer all the questions you have if you have the time.”

Monty looks towards the door, to see that Wells did leave to try and calm Octavia down earlier and neither of them minded.

Clarke wanted to catch up, and he was the one who didn’t leave when things got out of hand. Plus, she missed him too.

However, Monty turns to walk away from her and she begins to think the worst. Did he actually hate her? She didn’t want to walk all the way back to Wells’s house when it’s empty, just being in a place that held so many memories of the girl she used to be, it would hurt too much.

She just wanted to talk to someone, to act like she could still fit in with the people around her who used to know her just as well as she knew herself. That was the special thing about Arkadia, there was no busy streets or rude people, just a bunch of kids who grew up together and became lifetime friends because barely anyone made it out of town.

People would consider her lucky to make it out of here, but they would admit to how different she’s become. They would still judge her. She made it out of this town, causing her to be an _outsider_.

When she convinces herself that Monty wouldn’t be coming back, she starts to quickly shuffle out of the booth to head outside because she’d rather be seen as a person who came to the bar alone instead of being stood up twice.

She stands up and stretches her legs, having sat down for an hour without moving.

“Hey,” Monty comes up behind her, and she turned to face him. “Where are you going?”

“I—I thought,” Clarke stuttered as she pulled on the cuffs of her flannel, then paused when she focused on the black tray of tequila shots in Monty’s hands. “I thought you left.”

Monty clearly thought it was ridiculous, as he sets the tray down and slides himself into the opposite booth that Clarke had just gotten out of.

  
“Wells left these over there.” Monty gestured to the alcohol with a sly smirk, and it was his turn to gesture for Clarke to sit in front of him. “So it would be a shame if we let them go to waste.”

“A definite shame.” Clarke played along and agreed, getting situated as she sits back down and picks up a small glass and brings it to her lips to taste.

“We should toast, first.” Monty exclaimed, picking his glass and reaching forward to clink his drink with her’s. Both of them are smiling so hard that Clarke gives up trying to remember the last time she spoke to him without anybody around, when it was just them.

  
There was no point in reflecting on the past, not when she could fix things now.

So, she decides to just let things go.

_Alcohol helps with letting things go_.

Especially thoughts about a certain brunette who ran out of the room when she realized Clarke was here. (She wanted to forget the feeling of regret more than anything) 

  
Clarke clears her throat, “Cheers to what?” She asked.

  
Monty narrows his eyes, silence around them as he thinks about what to say.

  
“New beginnings.” Is all he replied, and Clarke takes that as her cue to chug the shot of tequila down her throat and embrace the warmth and burn that follows.

  
She’s picking up her second shot, oblivious to the hesitance of Monty who hasn’t even brought the glass to lips.

  
“Can I ask you something?” He sets the glass down, and it makes Clarke do the same as she fills with worry.

  
His gaze is unfocused, and for a second, she thinks he’s nervous to question her relationship with Octavia because of the way she acted—then, he starts mumbling to himself with non audible words that make it noticeable that there’s a part of him that would know the consequence of whatever he’s about to tell her—and she panics.

He must’ve noticed how her shoulders tense, body rigid as she would rather bask in the silence of things if it saves her a few minutes of explanation.

  
Clarke welcomes the sweet aftertaste after she downs her second shot. Her face scrunched with the sour taste on her tongue, then she nods carefully in Monty’s direction. She needed the courage to continue. Especially, since she already had an idea of what questions he would ask.

  
The same set of questions that she’s been dreading to answer since she left.

_Why did you leave_?

_Did you miss us_? 

Why. Why. _Why_. 

She couldn’t even give a solid answer if she tried. It was complicated. 

  
“You never told me why you left,” Monty began. “And I know you’re back now, but six years is a long time.”

  
Clarke should’ve rehearsed this, but she never did. She regrets it, now. Only, because she feels nerves creeping up her throat that make her words limited. Her friends deserve to know why she was so closed off before, so she just takes a breath and replied, “Things were complicated after my dad’s death. My mom just got an interview for a sponsorship that would help her senate campaign, so I went with her.” Simple as that.

  
Wells was the only other person who knew the story.

  
Monty ran a hand through his thin hair. As he brushed his bangs away from his forehead from absorbing her confession, he explained: “I get it. I lost my mom at a young age to cancer and I couldn’t even bare to be around my father or my aunt, because both of them had such a close relationship with her. When you have three people who lost someone that means so much, it’s a house full of silence and dragging feet. I was just a kid, so that _sucked_.”

  
Clarke bit her tongue, knowing that “_I’m sorry_” doesn’t fix the pain of losing someone.

  
Instead, she reaches forward and places her hand on top of his, and squeezes gently.

  
“I remember when you told me the first time.” That moment feels like a life time ago. “And it never gets easier, does it?”

Monty shakes his head, “Never.”

The unavoidable truth. It wasn’t sad, neither of them felt like it was something to cry about in front of the other because although the feeling wasn’t raw anymore, it was there.

In the depths of her heart, a weight dragging her down and erasing her happy memories when she remembers when she lost her dad.

  
Clarke wants to change the subject, sniffling back tears that are quick to form if she doesn’t stop herself. “So, I think it’s time for me to ask—“Monty’s head perks up when she continued, “How are things with you and Harper?” 

She hoped they were still together, or she would have to deal with the embarrassment of being wrong. 

  
“Really good, actually.” Monty sighs in relief, and smiled. “Harper and I just bought a ranch more inland, probably about twenty minutes from here.”

Clarke gasped, “You guys are still together?”

  
“Seven years, now.” Monty’s face lights up when he just said her name, and it makes something in Clarke want to burst. She was happy that they had a relationship that worked out, they were so good for each other—both so kind, nice and loving—traits that Clarke wished to have. “It took us six to get pregnant, and now I’m a father.” Before Clarke’s eyes could widen in shock or voice her disbelief, he stops her. “Crazy, I know.”

  
Her mouth hangs open, “Crazy, _yes_.” She doesn’t know what else to say, as she struggles to form her thoughts into sentences. Clarke tried to dismiss the endless questions that’s running around in her mind, so she asks the most basic one. “What’s the baby’s name?”

  
Monty chuckled at her surprise, “His name is Jordan, and Harper thinks he’s an exact replica of me as a child—and don’t even get me started on Jasper’s reaction to the news.”

  
“What happened?” Clarke leaned forward on her palm, elbow holding her head up.

There’s a warmth that spreads inside, when she hears about what she’s missed around here. Her friends were parents. _She couldn’t believe it_.

  
Monty huffed, getting ready to tell his story. Although she doubts that he would have anything bad to say about his best friend. For the first time that night, he picks up the tequila shot that he set aside earlier and leans his head back as he takes it down whole. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him.” He takes precaution, possibly thinking that she would run to the other man to gossip when in reality, she wouldn’t dare. “But, he wouldn’t stop bothering me about making Jasper the baby’s middle name. Eventually, Harper gave up once we found out the gender because she actually really did like the name.”

  
Clarke snickered, and maybe it was the buzz that began to spread in her chest from her two shots of liquor, but she began to think of how things would’ve been if she _stayed_. If she got to witness Jasper’s relentless arguments, or spend time with Harper and Octavia so neither of them would feel alone if one of them was busy. It was something she couldn’t stop thinking about, if she stayed behind.

“How about you?” He asks, leaning back against the frame of the booth with a teasing tone that makes her scoff. “How’s Polis treating the infamous doctor with a mother working in the senate?”

  
“_Monty_.” She sighed, and gestured her hand to dismiss his comments. “My mother is busy most of the time, we have occasional dinners on the weekends. And as for my job, it keeps me busy when I don’t have anything to do.” Clarke says nervously, knowing what she would have to explain next in order to get Monty to understand why she’s being so secretive.

  
But, that would mean that she would have to bring up _the_ person of interest.

Someone she doesn’t want to think about, or even see before she could think of a plan to get these divorce papers signed. The sooner she gets him to sign his name, the faster she could get back to Polis and her life with Finn and pretend like everything went back to normal. To pretend like her entire world didn’t just shift on it’s axis, because she had gone back home and everything was so different yet the _same_.

She _doesn’t_ hate how comfortable she feels sitting in a booth in Aurora Blake’s bar, talking to an old friend like time hasn’t passed and she could only recall a history between them. Actually, she really was enjoying herself. 

“I’m glad you’re doing alright, Clarke.” He said out of the blue, catching her off guard when silence fills the void between them. Monty nods when she looks up at him with a softness to his eyes, like he truly wants her to believe him. 

She does believe him. _Of course_, she does. 

“Thanks.” She hums. Her fingers find a rhythm against the glass, cradling her third shot of alcohol. 

When Monty looks down at her hand, that’s when Clarke realizes that she must’ve shifted the diamond to shine upright; that the diamond was _visible_ for him to see. She doesn’t try and hide it anymore even when he doesn’t have anything to say, but she still tries to find a way to explain her story with Finn before he could get the chance to bring up Bellamy. 

She looks at his reaction carefully, with wide eyes and a deep breath. Trying to prepare herself for anything, as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. 

He’s going to side with Bellamy, isn’t he? 

_Oh, no_. It hits her, Bellamy didn’t know she was engaged. 

Clarke opens her mouth to explain with any words she could muster, any story to convince Monty that she never meant to hurt Bellamy in any way—but he just locks eyes with her, and speaks in a gentle tone. 

“It’s funny how things work out.” He says simply, and he doesn’t drink his share of tequila but sets it aside and smacks his lips together to keep his true responses back. 

In that moment, Clarke thinks of his family. Harper, Jordan and the rest of his friends. She didn’t know them anymore, but Monty had a group of friends who loved him, a family that he deserved. 

With the people she pushed away. 

_He was happy here_. 

She focuses on the near empty napkin container that’s in the middle of the table, one thing she hadn’t seen before. 

Clarke doesn’t look at Monty, “It’s funny how things _do_.” 

Then, she brings the shot glass to her lips and tilts her head back. 

* * *

“My mom grabbed the scissors from my hand and yelled at me for what felt like hours, I just—“ She hiccuped. “_Just_ wanted to cut my hair and use blue berries to dye the ends, it was no big deal.” She reaches forward trying to twirl a piece of Monty’s hair, to try and decide if the haircut was a good idea for him too. 

Monty takes his phone away from his ear and ends the call; the same call that he’s been on for the past five minutes and Clarke had no self awareness to try and get him to listen to her. He peels her fingers away from the ends of his hair and his signature smile to try and be nice. 

“_Noooo_.” Clarke whined putting a hand on his bicep, as she tried to stop Monty from exiting the booth. He had been reminding her that it was getting close to eleven, and that he had to leave soon for the past hour—and she didn’t realize the hour was up. 

To be fair, she’s blaming the pounding of her brain against her skull and the dizziness that prevents her from thinking. (It was either that or blame the most embarrassing stories of herself as a child that made her laugh so hard that she almost threw up the alcohol she’s been drinking.) 

She’s been doing a good job at keeping it in. Not to boost her own self confidence or _anything_. 

Clarke was a _fun_ drunk, (something she’s been telling herself for years even if people don’t believe her) but only in the beginning. As time passed, she would turn into a clingy and easily annoyed drunk who wanted to feel better after realizing her mistake. 

That’s who she was now. 

Monty barely drank after his second shot and she understood why, he was a _father_ now after all. She also forgot if she drank so much because she was taking his turns...but she couldn’t remember much after her fifth tequila shot. 

(A terrible _mistake_) 

She was so used to controlling how she acted when she drank in public, how her mother would stick to her side to show how to act properly with a Gray Goose in her hands. But, she was in Arkadia now. She didn’t need to control herself here. 

Shamefully, she also managed to forget that she drank two martini’s before the first round of shots—and it only intensified the aftermath and how much she wants to bang her head against a wall after remembering the fact. 

(At some point, she thought she was seeing multiple heads on Monty’s body and that’s when she figured it was time to slow down) 

“Don’t worry,” Monty smiled. “I called someone to get you.” 

Clarke tilts her head in confusion, and she wished she would’ve payed attention to his conversation earlier. 

Now, she’s clueless. 

Maybe it was Harper? She would _love_ to see her, if she was honest. 

Wells? Then, it would give her the opportunity to ask what happened with Octavia. Clarke wouldn’t also be a bother to anyone who wanted to drive her home because she was staying with him, so she hoped it was him who was coming. 

She may not have an idea of who was coming to get her, but she trusted Monty to make sure it was someone she liked. 

Monty looks down at his phone once more before shutting it off, and sends Clarke an apologetic frown. 

“I’m sorry,” He begins to slide out of the booth, and Clarke opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

Although, he didn’t have anything to be sorry for—she didn’t understand that part. 

Monty stood, and Clarke watched as he put his phone in his back pocket and glanced towards the door. He sighs deeply, and it almost convinced her that he wanted to stay. “Harper needs me back home, the baby got fussy and she’s tired. She also wants me to tell you that she’s missed you, so she says hello.” 

Clarke nods, feeling warm all over at the mention of her friend. It was a good effort to not slur her words, “Tell her I said hello, too. Have a good night, Monty.” 

A smile is a permanent feature on his face, and it’s infectious as Clarke wouldn’t help but copy him. She waves Monty goodbye, and soon he’s walking out of the door and she’s left alone. 

She’s alone _again_. 

And drunk nonetheless. She was afraid to try and get herself out of the booth because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for very long, as they felt heavy and she saw everything in a crooked line. A glass of water would be nice, but she didn’t want to get up if she didn’t have to. 

(What if she stayed until Wells got back?) 

_Hell_, she didn’t even know where he was and she didn’t have her phone. (Clarke remembered she left it in her purse only when Monty wanted to put his number back into her contacts.) She had no way of contacting him, so it was an obvious _no_ for asking Wells. 

Clarke sighed, and closed her eyes. 

The music had slowed a while ago, to accommodate the older customers who were starting to stroll inside. She didn’t recognize the songs as much anymore, but it reminded her of what her parents would listen to on the weekends with the radio on full volume. 

Clarke waits for a while longer. 

_Ten minutes pass_. 

The seat in front of her is still empty, and she’s pretty sure in her ability in her navigation skills to get back to Wells’ house if they were able to walk here in the first place. 

_Five more minutes_. 

That’s when she gives up. 

She looks weird sitting alone, and she couldn’t drink anymore if she wanted to get sick. Clarke slides out of the booth slowly, trying to massage her temples at the same time. When she’s able to stand, she tries to blend in with the crowd that looks like swirls and blurry images of faces and get to the front door. 

She feels like she’s able to breathe when she gets through a small group of rowdy high school kids who were drinking for the first time (it _seemed_) and she reaches for the front door. 

Clarke freezes when she begins to push the door open, because she hears the chime above her. She thinks of Octavia and how she ran out of here because of her, she thinks of Monty who just left because his child needs him. She thinks of how many times _she’s_ been under the chime, and she feels goosebumps on her skin. A brush of cold air sneaks into the sleeves of her flannel, making her push the door open completely to remind her that she can’t stay stuck in the moment. 

She can’t get lost in the past. It’s what cost her months of healing and learning how to disguise her old self into a version of Clarke Griffin that wouldn’t rip herself apart over leaving Arkadia. 

There’s a few guys smoking in front of the bar, talking in hush voices and clouds of grey smoke around them. She avoids wanting to ask them which direction to start walking in, knowing Wells’ lived near Eden—and she remembered crossing the street on the opposite side to get to the bar—so she would need to walk through the parking lot in order to make it to the other side. 

She could do this. A friendly reminder that kept her going, especially with her only thoughts being about sleep and a tall glass of water to help sober up. She wasn’t as dizzy anymore, but most of her thoughts were clouded by random things and a disoriented of words. 

_Still_. Clarke has a little faith in herself to make it home, although it would be nice to have a phone, just to get in contact with Wells. She may have excess alcohol in her system, but she thinks of herself as being tipsy rather than drunk to the point where she would get sick with any sudden movement. 

As long as she doesn't make any sudden movements, she feels like her stomach would settle properly to where her throat would feel less scratchy and less like the alcohol had risen. 

She’s been walking mindlessly towards the wide entrance of the lot, trying to see if she could recognize any signs she saw from earlier when she was with Wells, when she sees _something _that caught her eye. 

Clarke goes rigid, at the sight of a very familiar Toyota truck in one of the first spots of the parking lot. The same crimson red paint, the same rocket key chain that hung from his rear view mirror, the _one_ thing she remembered buying at a thrift shop. 

The _same_ key chain that she gave to Bellamy. 

Clarke doesn’t move, feeling too many emotions at once: anger, disbelief, like she’s had way too much to drink and maybe she was hallucinating the fact that Bellamy’s truck was in front of her? She knew her mind was currently a puzzle of thoughts and visions, and just like the picture of Monty having two heads when she had downed her fifth shot, she hoped it was _fake_. 

“Clarke!” Someone calls for her in the distance, and she waits a few moments before turning around. _It couldn’t be_. 

_It couldn’t be Bellamy_. Not after how he treated her before, just a few hours ago. 

She was wrong about Monty, she thought he would at least call Wells to come get her. No matter how difficult things with Octavia, she was sure that he would’ve come and took her home. 

She never would’ve expected Bellamy to be the one that Monty called. Not ever in a million years, he was the last person on her list of people she wanted to talk to. Even, if she had to talk to him in order to get him to sign the papers, she didn’t want _to_. 

Although, much to her dislike, there he was. Bellamy had pushed the front door of Aurora’s bar open, looking back into the room to thank someone for directions—she was sure of it, by the forced smile on his face and an older man waving at him—and he had his keys held in his hand as he spotted the blonde a distance away from him. The cold was apparently too much for him, as he wore a fleece coat over his outfit from this morning. 

No. No. _No_. Clarke shook her head as he was getting closer and closer, not wanting to spend any time with him. 

She was angry with him. 

_Furious_. At the sight of him walking towards her. 

She would find her way to Well’s house, all by herself. She didn’t need him. 

In an effort to get away from him as quickly as she could, she turns back around and starts walking out of the parking lot as her original plan. The night sky was quickly turning black with white stars, yellow headlights of other cars lighting the pavement in front of her feet as she walked. She huffed out a frustrated breath, hoping on any star above her that Bellamy would get the hint and leave her alone. 

Clarke remembers what he said to her earlier, “_go back to Polis because that’s where this Clarke belongs_”, and she tries not to let it get to her. (It’s what she keeps telling herself, especially when her eyes begin to water and she has to fight back the urge to cry) 

_You don’t belong here_. The words ring in her head, adding onto the pressure of her headache that makes her want to forget about everything that’s stressful and go to sleep. 

“Clarke, _stop_.” Bellamy yelled, trying to get her attention. 

She was being forced to hear him speak, since he was so loud, but didn’t bother to listen. (It’s her fault that she doesn’t hear him get closer, a hundred percent) 

It was a cruel joke, _all_ of it. 

Clarke manages to misstep, paying no attention to what she was doing because all she could think about was the man trying to chase her down. She stumbles on her feet when she misses the curb of the street. She expects to fall forward, or catch herself with her hands and escape with minor scratches but she didn’t even get a chance to hit the ground. 

She gasps, a sharp intake of breath and almost makes her throw up the alcohol she so willingly drank earlier—and a pair of arms sling around her waist so fast, that she doesn’t have time to fight whoever grabbed her—and she gets pulled back into someone’s chest. 

“After all these years,” Bellamy spoke in her ear, whispering his annoyance with his deep voice that still manages to give her the chills. “You’re still making me run after you.” 

Clarke scoffs, but it’s not far from the truth. She doesn’t say anything, but elbow him in the chest and shove him away. She doesn’t believe a word he says, knowing they were both angry with the other and she didn’t need to fight with him when she was feeling like a dead weight. He was always such a tease when he was upset, something she couldn’t deal with right now. 

Bellamy rolls his eyes, trying to catch his breath from running after her to make sure she didn’t fall before. He sighs to make an argument, “I hate this as much as you do, but Monty really needed me to come and I couldn’t say no.” 

Great, she _couldn’t_ even be upset with Monty now. 

She ignores the feeling of being the last option, the last thing on Bellamy’s mind when she used to be the very first. She only hated him because of the circumstances, she could _never_—

“Get away from me,” Clarke warned as she broke away from her own whirling thoughts, not even looking him in the eyes when she pushes him away. She waves her hands to argue, “Go back home, just do anything but stay here.” 

Bellamy adjusts his stance, as his eyes go wide with disbelief. A flash of the old Bellamy she used to love, shines when he says, “You think I’m gonna leave you here? When you’re the one who’s had a little too much to drink and your friend was worried about you getting home?” 

There he goes again, trying to twist his motives in order to make it seem like he didn’t care. Clarke was fuming, she couldn’t believe that he didn’t seem to understand her. 

Maybe, he just didn’t care about her anymore. Clarke should just accept it. 

Clarke nodded vigorously, because she believed what she thought. “Yeah I do, and you wanna know why?” She steps closer, into his personal space and points a finger at his chest. She raises her voice and regrets it immediately, because she could get sick any minute but—“You made it crystal clear that you don’t care about what happens to me, so I’d appreciate it if you leave me alone.” 

“Leave you alone, _huh_?” Bellamy surrendered his hands in the air, stepping back just to mock her. She tries to swallow the burning in her throat, she knew exactly what that meant. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted for the past six years.” 

He’s wrong, and he knows it.

“I could get home just fine,” Clarke tried to convince him, as she stumbles backwards at a loss for balance. She doesn’t want to fight, “Just let me _go_.” 

Bellamy’s jaw tightens, stepping forward to grab for her wrist when she turns around to walk in the opposite direction.

“You know I can’t do that, Clarke.”

“Why?” She wiggles her hand free of his grasp, and crosses her arms. 

He stressed, “_Monty_.” A pause, biting his lip as if it could keep what he truly wants to admit away from her. “_I_—I know he would be angry if you didn’t get back to Wells’ in one piece.” 

He’s wrong, and he knows it.

Yet, she stills finds herself saying with a hint of disgust: “You’re such an _ass_, Bellamy.” 

She didn’t want to think of how Monty betrayed her trust, after talking so little of her relationship with Bellamy. How could he be so blind to how much she wanted to avoid that conversation? 

Bellamy doesn’t get a chance to respond, even when the words are on the tip of his tongue and his brows are furrowed tightly—a face he makes when he’s trying to argue back—as Clarke suddenly feels the need to hunch over on her knees and let out what she’s been trying to hold back. 

She can’t hold her own hair back, and she blames Wells in that moment, as it creates a shadow around her face that made it hard to see and _avoid_. When she pauses, she’s panting heavy and the smell is getting to her head which makes it feel like a hammer against the left side of her skull—one of the side effects that made it worse the morning after for Clarke was the headaches, she couldn’t stand the throbbing—and right now; it wasn’t getting any better. 

It was possibly the mix of surprise and sudden frustration with seeing Bellamy in front of her, of knowing the real reason that she was drinking so much was because she was trying to forget about her problems, that made her groan in pain when everything hit her at once. 

The scene wasn’t pretty in any means since she was throwing up on the sidewalk after getting into a fight with someone she didn’t want to see. 

However, she sniffles back tears when she feels a hand firmly rub up and down her back, letting her know that she wasn’t alone—she knew that she couldn’t be angry at Bellamy anymore. The gentle strokes of his hand along her spine were strangely familiar, he takes a few steps closer to where Clarke could see his shoes opposite her own. It doesn’t take long for her to recognize his motives, he was trying to tell her that he’s right there _next_ to her. He wasn’t going to leave, even if he didn’t want to talk to her. Even going the extra length to collect her hair and swoop it to one side when she took breaks to catch her breath. 

_God_, how could she be so stupid. 

Bellamy wasn’t the one who stopped caring about her, he was the person who was pulling her hair back and calming her down when her emotions were too high to control. 

He cared too much. He’s always had a big heart, one that was split into so many different pieces of those who were closest to him in life. Clarke forgot that she was one of those pieces, that she held his heart in her hands. 

And she broke it. She broke him without even trying, and when she’s able to stand a few minutes later, she doesn’t spare him another look as she wipes the back of her mouth and uses her other sleeve to wipe under her eyes before he could see that she’s done so. 

_He still cared about her_. 

If she was completely honest with herself, after all this time, she never stopped either. 

It’s what scared her. To know that she had such a special place in her own heart that belongs to him. 

Clarke doesn’t say a word to him, not even when she’s standing in front of his passenger side door waiting for him to unlock the car. 

She tried so hard for six years to forget about the way Bellamy loved her, to put her old self in the past and throw away the key. 

In the process of making a life for herself, a future that her mother would praise, a life that Clarke _should_ be grateful of having. . .She forgot about her heart and 

She left her _heart_ in Arkadia. 

She isn’t afraid of admitting it. 

Clarke is only _terrified_ of the possibility that she loves Finn for an entirely different reason. A reason she doesn’t know how to confront, so she leaves it for tomorrow.

For right now, she only knows one thing.

She’s exhausted and wants to get home. 

(There’s a small voice in the back of her mind that tells her that she’s already there, but she doesn’t listen.) She can’t listen to any reasons to remind her of how good she had it in Arkadia, because it seems like she could have it back if, for the first time ever, she listened to what she wanted. 

Clarke has it _good_ in Polis. She has to make it back there, back to Finn and her mother. No matter how hard the urge is to reach over and grab Bellamy’s hand and interlock her fingers with his until he looks at her and smiles—_No_.—she shakes her head which makes her dizzy—and Bellamy looks at her with cautious eyes. 

She looks away, and sighs. She waits until her vision clears again, making a vow to never drink again, and she climbs into the passenger seat of Bellamy’s car as soon as the beep goes off telling her she could get in. 

Six years ago, she would’ve leaned over the divider and kissed him before he started the ignition. 

_That was six years ago_. 

Now, she stiffens against the leather of the seat and keeps her hands in her lap. 

_This is now, _reminding herself of how she was so in lovewith Bellamy. There’s a unmistakeable tension that instantly builds a wall between them, and Bellamy doesn’t say a word and neither does she_._

_He must’ve remembered the way they used to act around each other. _

They both know exactly what’s changed_. _

Unspoken words are powerful, it was something her father told her when she was younger and her mother would be upset over a little thing, and this was a lesson to be learned for Clarke. She didn’t have to say anything, neither did Bellamy, because _memories_ are still there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! I hope you guys liked this chapter and a full introduction into Monty and how he felt about Clarke leaving. 
> 
> Don’t worry, the issues with Octavia and Wells, including Jasper will be addressed but of course that’s apart of the story. 
> 
> Bellamy....perhaps I missed him too much. I loveee the end scene! Thank you for reading, chapter four should be scheduled for Friday! 
> 
> (I’ll update if anything changes, but I’m really working hard for this story and hope it’s showing off nicely <3) follow me on tumblr @knockingonbellarkesdoor for any updates or notes, or if you wanna say hello


	4. All That I Ever Was (I Could See It In Your Perfect Eyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Clarke," He pleads, searching for her gaze when she looks down at her lap. Bellamy fights himself on thinking that she feels sorry, that leaving him was her biggest regret, but he won't move on or find closure if he lets himself believe it. He repeats for the second time, "I was so angry at you for leaving, and I don't want to feel that way anymore." When he says it, a weight lifts from his shoulders when they lock eyes and there's a quiet understanding between them. 
> 
> If only he could stop from feeling breathless every time he looks into her blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter is a bit late but I absolutely LOVE it. I’m sooo here for a Wells and Bellamy friendship, he just wants his friends to be happy together again! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did, feel free to leave kudos and comments <3 thank you.
> 
> the song used in the chapter is Chasing Cars by the band Snow Patrol..an absolute classic

> "_I drove you to the edge of the map_, _and after that , I pushed you off just to watch you fall_. _You never were the bounce back kind_. _But boy, this time you've proven me wrong after all_. _Now I'm the one who's gonna crawl. Cause it's_ _m__y loss, my lonely, __My mistake, mine only_” _**MINE ALL MINE**_ — **SHEDAISY**

* * *

Bellamy couldn’t believe that his life had turned out like this. He was so anxious that he couldn’t control his knee from bouncing up and down just so that he could concentrate on something other than _Clarke_. She was sitting next to him in his passenger seat, the one she claimed as her’s so long ago. She was curled into herself, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. 

A small part of his mind was convincing himself that her actions made sense. She didn’t want to be around him, didn’t want to even get in his car a few minutes ago, so she distanced herself even when the space was hardly existent between them.

The other part: made up of his conscience and _damned_ muscle memory was aching to reach out and grab her hand as she drifted off to sleep. Bellamy wanted to interlock their fingers, rub soft circles across her skin to remind her that he was there. _That he still existed_. He wasn’t stupid, he saw the diamond that shined brightly on her left hand. It was crooked, most likely shifted from being on display. 

It was like a spotlight, blinding him of the fact that she wasn’t his anymore. Sure, he’s tried for six years to get over her and move on. (He thinks of Gina Martin, a girl he tried to date two years after Clarke left Arkadia. She was sweet, but not the woman he wanted to love forever and ever) 

Bellamy shook his head back and forth to rid himself of these thoughts, fingers playing a rhythm against the wheel to some tune that was barely audible on the radio. The silence between the two of them was painful, and he didn’t know what to do. What to say. His window was rolled down, the warm air did nothing as it brushed against his cold hands. He couldn’t do anything about how he reacted to having Clarke around, if he couldn’t touch her, then he kept to himself and let the nerves find a permanent stay in his stomach. 

He wouldn't dare roll Clarke’s passenger window down, since she was leaning against it and she looked comfortable as could be. She only adjusts every few minutes, if her arm turns numb or she gets irritated with her position. (Not that he’s been analyzing her every move from the corner of his eye, or anything.) 

She doesn’t want anything to do with him, Bellamy convinced himself. If he was honest, he’s been trying to figure out Clarke’s motives and plans for being back in Arkadia—causing him to play dumb to anyone who asks him (Thanks to Monty who called him when he was spending the night talking to his strictly just a friend, Gina, who had brought him dinner earlier. Bellamy hates that sitting next to Clarke, even in complete silence, he preferred to spend his night like _this_.) So in a way, he really wanted to thank his friend. 

If someone would’ve told Bellamy that his wife would be returning home, after six years of telling herself that he doesn’t exist anymore in her life—he would’ve called them crazy. Or an honest fool. 

Because, how could she just throw away the love they shared? The life they had just begun to craft together, after just five months of being married. 

_Clarke was married to him_. It was such a large commitment, and Bellamy thought that she would know what she was getting herself into. He wouldn’t of proposed if she wasn’t ready, if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him. 

For a split second, he _wished_—he couldn’t believe he was even thinking something like this—wished that they could’ve taken things slower. 

A few minutes go by, and Bellamy decides that he’s had enough of the awkward silence between them. To give him something to focus on, his fingers play with the volume dial for one of the songs playing on the radio and he clears his throat. He barely listened to modern pop or whatever was playing, so he gave the option entirely up to her. 

“Do you have any song requests?” He asks her hesitantly, then gestures to the glove compartment that held a collection of cassette albums. “I still have the tapes in there, if you wanna look.” 

Clarke stills, then relaxed once she followed his gaze to the unlocked draw and soon enough: she sits up straighter and rubs her temples. After a few seconds of debating, “_All_ of them?” 

Bellamy felt his shoulders loosen in tension, and he nods trying to hide a smile that threatens to form on his face. 

He remembers a time where she would shuffle through his collection, play every song and choose a favorite and play _those_ albums repeatedly. Where she would force him to drive around Arkadia in the late afternoon sunset, just so she could listen to the melody of each song while holding his hand tight.

The memory stung, and he tries not to flinch when she reaches for the lock and pulls down to reveal his CD’s that were lined up neatly in multiple stacks. 

Bellamy waits till he reaches a red light in the empty streets, his pulse beating hard in his ears, just to look to his side and recognize the look of awe on Clarke’s face as sorts through his music. His brows furrowed at the sight, having experienced such a foreign emotion. It felt so normal, like the _old_ Bellamy and Clarke driving through the narrow streets of Arkadia, and yet...their love was seperated and lost as six years have gone by. 

Clarke gasps softly, bringing his attention to what she was holding rather than the light turning green. 

Obviously, he didn’t want them to crash so he sacrificed his knowledge of knowing what made her emotional and focused his eyes back on the road. He makes a left turn, purposely looking forward when a multitude of signs alert him that Eden was getting closer and closer. He never had anything bad to say about Wells ever, but if he could’ve lived a bit further down the road, then Bellamy could’ve had more time to spend with a dazed and tired Clarke. 

He doesn't move when he hears the click of a CD case opening, or when Clarke sniffles her nose because he suspects that she found one of her favorite records. Then, she reaches under his arm and watches as the disk slides into the player. 

Bellamy goes stiff, knowing that he hasn’t opened the glove compartment in at least a few years. Like any other good memory he had with Clarke, he pretended that they didn’t exist and left the compartment alone and untouched after he _retu_—

His thoughts get cut off, as a _too_ familiar voice begins to sing throughout his car. 

The song begins with soft guitar strumming, and Bellamy grips onto his wheel harder than necessary because of course, he _recognized_ the song. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Clarke would choose to play it, especially when she doesn’t love him anymore. 

She doesn’t need him. She doesn’t feel sorry. She doesn’t feel anything towards him.

> "_We'll do it all. Everything on our own. We don't need_ a_nything o__r anyone_" 

Bellamy bites his tongue, looking at the sign that read that Eden Garden was only minutes away. He began to count the seconds that pass, hoping the tactic would calm his rapidly beating heart. 

In a complete contradiction to his earlier thoughts, he wanted the car ride to be over as quickly as possible. He sneaks a glance in Clarke's direction, listening carefully as she breathes softly and her fingers tap against the arm rest to the beat of the music. 

He couldn't look away, even when the light turned green again. 

> "_I don't quite know how to say. How I feel. Those three words are said too much, They're not enough_."

Even, when he spots a frantic and nervous Wells Jaha on his doorstep not being able to stand still. 

Bellamy finds himself with jitters too, as the lyrics replay in his mind. It was true, he had no idea how to tell her how he feels inside. How can he tell someone who wanted to forget him, that he still loves her?

He gives Wells a firm nod, when he parks in front of his house—wanting to wake Clarke up himself, and bring her inside—and he thinks that it isn't selfish. 

He just wants to have her to himself one last time. 

> "_If I lay here, If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told, before we get too old. Show me a garden that's bursting into life_"

Bellamy bites the inside of his cheek as he reaches forward to turn the volume down to mute, and tries to decide if waking her was the right idea. 

Should he just take her in his arms and carry her to Wells? Or get a few words in before his heart remembers how it felt to love the woman beside him. Before he has a chance to break, and she's here to see it for once. 

It was clear, since the day she left, that it would take climbing over mountains to get over a girl like Clarke. Bellamy just guessed that time would heal his wounds too, but six years wasn't enough. He could get angry with her (he was fuming, red taking over his brown eyes when he saw her this morning--not knowing there was a possibility of a dream also being a nightmare.) he could think that he hates her for eternity, but he knew that loved her with everything he had. Everything he ever was, the man he turned into, he transformed because of Clarke. 

And there was no simple way to forget that. 

That's when he makes his decision, and he whispers her name with caution. 

"Clarke," He was trying not to touch her, because it would make him want more. To never let go of her again. "Come on, get up." 

She stirs in the seat, unfolding her legs from beneath her and letting them hit the floor mat. Her eyes open wide, like she forgot she had fallen asleep so quickly. 

"I fell asleep?" She questioned, and Bellamy's heart wants to jump out of his chest and straight back into her hands at the rasp of her voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." 

A part of him wants to believe that she would've wanted to talk to him eventually, if she was awake. 

A very _small_ part. 

"It's alright." Bellamy assured. "I'm sure you were tired from the bar and getting sick, so I won't hold it against you." 

She huffs, then frowns apologetically before reaching for the handle to push the door open. Bellamy knew it was the last chance he would have to say what's been eating him alive, to explain himself and how he truly feels because she's quick to send him a smile for a thank you, and she has one foot out of the car. 

He stops her, hand instinctively reaching for her wrist. For a second, both of them are at a loss for words to describe how it feels to touch each other after what felt like, a century that passed. 

"Can we talk for a minute?" Bellamy asked, and as if it burned to feel her skin under his fingers; he pulls away and sinks into his seat. With a averted gaze and an open heart, he admits to her in a plea, "I really want to explain myself." 

He was almost shy around her, just like when he was fourteen and asking her out for the first time. 

Clarke nods after a moment, quietly closing the door and avoiding the silence that builds between them. 

Bellamy knows it's awkward, he could feel himself itching to get away from a tense situation and away from her--but he _had_ to do this. If he doesn't say this now, the way his heart is trying to piece back together and how he would try his best to get over her, he's afraid he won't have the time to explain in the future. 

As far as he knew, she wouldn't come back once he's signed the divorce papers. 

_She won't come back_. 

She won't come back to her friends that missed her. 

She won't come back to her childhood home, or the memory of her father. 

She won't come home to a man who would love her for the rest of her life. 

Maybe, it was his fault all along. For thinking that he was the best fit, the best option for Clarke. 

Now, he's paying for it. He's paying the price of loving someone so deeply, that he's willing to let her go and be in love with somebody else. 

Bellamy clears his throat finally, making Clarke turn her head to watch him. When he realizes that she's looking at him, he looks straight ahead and his hands grip onto the wheel tightly and his knuckles are fast to turn white. His voice is shaky when he speaks, "I was so angry at you for leaving," 

She cuts him off immediately, voice small and fragile. "Bell-" 

"_Clarke_," He pleads, searching for her gaze when she looks down at her lap. Bellamy fights himself on thinking that she feels sorry, that leaving him was her biggest regret, but he won't move on or find closure if he lets himself believe it. He repeats for the second time, "I was so angry at you for leaving, and I don't want to feel that way anymore." When he says it, a weight lifts from his shoulders when they lock eyes and there's a quiet understanding between them. 

If only he could stop from feeling breathless every time he looks into her blue eyes. It wouldn’t make a difference if her's were filled with sorrow and tears. 

She had to accept that the way she left him, left everything behind, it was _wrong_. He would be able to deal with the consequences of watching sadness overtake her frame, he would be able to watch as a few tears slipped from the corner of her eyes when she realizes her mistakes. Bellamy just hoped that she didn't think of their relationship as a mistake. 

"Bellamy, you ha-" She begins, stopping when her voice begins to tremble. "_you_ have to understand that I never meant to hurt you. _Ever_." 

She emphasized her last words, making Bellamy certain that she meant it. She would walk away, and they would both be able to move towards a new life and keep their good memories safe in their minds for the rest of their lives. 

Their relationship was _over_. 

"Yeah I know that, Clarke." He painfully smiles, knowing the pain was taking over inside. She was telling the truth and there's no way that he would be angry for that fact alone. "And I don't really know if I'm allowed to speak on this, but I'm ha—" He won't say it. Bellamy held his tongue, "_glad_ that someone has been treating you good for the past six years." 

Her mouth opens in surprise when he gestures to her left hand, where the diamond ring is shining under the moonlight. He hasn't fully admired the quality of the ring yet, knowing it would hurt him more than it already does and he doesn't need to know how another man loves his future ex-wife. 

Clarke tries to find the right words to say, to explain herself. 

She stutters, "Bellamy, it's _not_-"

"Just because I'm from the south, doesn't mean I'm stupid." He argued blantly, then suddenly a flash of his memory of Clarke helping him ace his math exams when they were in high school is playing in his mind and he takes a moment to breathe. 

Clarke replied swiftly, "I didn't say you were" 

"The ring is nice, _really nice_," Bellamy closes his eyes, trying to remember how Clarke looked with his engagement ring on her finger from a few years ago. When he pictures the image perfectly, he waits for her to speak and try and come up with a reason to disagree with him. 

"Bellamy." She states, and it makes him snap at her. 

"Please, don't." His voice cracked, sharing sympathy when she slumps her shoulders in defeat and sniffles back her tears. "Don't lie and say it's not a beautiful ring, because it looks like someone you should be wearing." He chuckles to himself even through everything hurts inside. Now, he really wished this conversation could end because he regrets it. "It's much nicer than the ring I got you in high school— _God_, Clarke," He stops and turns to her, looking at how tightly her hands are clasped together in front of her rather than her sunken face. "Tell me he treats you good, will you?" 

"He does." Clarke swallows thickly, as she wipes at her cheeks as fast as she could without him noticing. "And I'm so sorry, Bell-" She stops herself when she realizes that he wasn’t going to pay attention. 

He doesn't answer her. He licks at his lips, afraid of tasting salt from his own tears but sighs in relief when he doesn't find any. 

Clarke sits through minutes of silence, staying just incase he had to say anything else. When she opens the car door, she doesn't look back to wave goodbye or lean forward to press her lips against her's like old times. 

When she closes the door and walks inside, Bellamy takes a deep breath to calm himself. As he waits for Wells to walk outside with the divorce papers from the bottom of Clarke's purse, he finds the single ball point pen that he placed in one of his cup holders and he tries not to lose his composure when he lets the reality sink in. He would use that pen to make him a single man, a false façade being put on his face to pretend like he didn't still love his wife. 

It was for the best, his millionth attempt at convincing himself. 

He was going to give Clarke what she wanted. Bellamy was going to sign those papers, and watch her walk away from him. 

For the second time. 

* * *

"How's my sister?" 

"She freaked out on me and Jasper," Wells explained, leaning forward to rest against the window frame. "He got the worst of it though, I'm pretty sure she was using him like her own punching bag-she was just so angry with Clarke being back that she didn't know how to handle the shock." 

Bellamy runs his hands through his hair and sighs, eyes stuck onto the bold letters above the certificate he was holding in his hands.

He wanted to be the one to sooth his friend's thoughts over how his sister reacted, but he would be lying if he said it was second on his list of priorities right now. He was too busy reading what information he had to fill out, and he tried to agree with everything Wells was saying about his night with Clarke before things went wrong because he was hunched over his wheel trying to write his name, birthday and any other necessary information about his marriage. He felt like a ticking bomb, because at any moment he could either let his tears ruin the document or throw it in his backseat without a care in the world. 

"I'll talk to her later," Bellamy assured, then switching the topic of discussion as he looks up to Wells with worried eyes. "Are you sure Clarke's asleep?" 

He didn't want to see her again tonight, and shamelessly, he wanted to go to sleep tonight knowing that she would spend at least one more night in Arkadia where she was just a drive away. 

"She knocked out right when I showed her the guest room, leaving me to have a whole lot to explain to my dad when he gets home tomorrow." Wells chuckled, and it made the other man smile at his humor. "But I don't understand why you don't want to wait until tomorrow to give this to her yourself?" 

"I don't wanna be with her when I finish this, Wells." Bellamy admitted, looking up from the divorce form to sound intimidating. "It wouldn't be smart for either of us." 

"Why is that?" Wells tilts his head, "Are you scared that you won't be able to hand them over?" 

"Terrified, actually." With Clarke gone for so long, Bellamy was grateful that he had a good friend like Wells to lean against and be vulnerable with. He didn't know what he would be like without a support system after everything happened. He clicks his pen repeatedly, "I just don't want her to tell me straight to my face that she doesn't love me." 

Wells frowned, stopping Bellamy from writing as he takes the pen in frustration. 

"Don't be an idiot, Blake." He encouraged, as the other man frowns instantly. "You know she loves you." 

"_Loved_." 

"I still think it was a mistake when you came back from Polis after only being there for a month." Wells dismissed his comment, not bothering to fight Bellamy when he snatches back the pen from his hand. "You had the chance to get her to come back, and you gave up Bellamy. You didn't even _see_-" 

"Stop." Bellamy warned, his voice dropping an octave. Neither of them knew if it was because of emotion, or anger. Most likely, _both_. "I never gave up on her, and I only came back so quickly because I knew I had to do something with my life to make her want to come back." 

"She left you!" 

"And a doctor who was already loved by her mother had his sights on her," Bellamy continued. "She was hurting, Wells. She had just lost her father, and we both know how much she loved me and yet I wasn't good enough for her. I understand why she listened to Abby, she was trying to do the right thing."

He never thought that doing the right thing, would include hurting him so badly. 

It took him so long to try and understand himself, and he didn't fully get it either. 

"It wasn't _right_, it was stupid." Wells cries out as he tries to peer over Bellamy's shoulder to see if he was almost done filling out the form. 

"I'll always love her, Wells." Bellamy's hand froze against the paper, letting the fact sink into his soul, into his heart, into his memory. "I still love her, but I can't stop her from wanting to be with someone else." 

He finishes filling out the information quickly, and thankfully in silence—and Wells waits to say anything until he's up to signing his name on the last dotted line. 

"Think about this, Bellamy." Wells pleaded. "If you tell her how you feel, she would come running back into your arms." 

Bellamy could feel a headache begin to form in the front of his skull, the pressure of not knowing what to truly do was weighing down on him. Of course, he would rather fight for her and let her decide if he was good enough to return to—but he's already lost the fight. He lost the fight six years ago. 

With a heavy heart that's slowly sinking to his feet, he clicks his pen and begins to sign his name to complete the document. 

_Bellamy Blake_. 

There’s an empty space under his name that’s waiting to be written, and he knows that Clarke would do it first thing in the morning. So he ignores it. 

“She won’t, Wells.” He explained and clicks his pen and hands over the papers with a flat-lipped smile. “She could always love me, but she’s in love with someone else now. Her heart belongs to someone that isn’t me, and I have to deal with it.” 

“But, you two—“ Wells tried.

”Enough, _please_.” Bellamy begged and wished that his heart would stop breaking in that moment. He didn’t need to be reminded of how perfect his life used to be, not ever again. “It’s done. So make sure she gets those tomorrow and I’ll talk to you later.” 

Wells nods, even through his trouble of understanding and not knowing how to get through to a stubborn broken hearted man. He holds the papers to his chest and Bellamy doesn’t wait for a goodbye when he scrolls his window up and drives away. 

* * *

When Clarke wakes the next morning, her face was leaning against a stack of papers instead of the pillow she remembered cuddling before she turned to her side. 

She can’t hold her eyes open for too long, as her lids are still heavy with lack of sleep. She pulls the blanket up to cover her neck, making sure she’s wrapped up tightly so she could go back to sleep easily—but there was two problems—as the sun was shining brightly against the thin curtains of the room. 

Clarke groaned, adjusting in her bed to try and get comfortable before feeling a small sting against her cheek as she brushes over the corner of one of the papers she was lying against. 

She didn’t remember writing anything before bed, and all she _did_ remember from the night before was that Bellamy drove her home and Wells was able to escort her to the guest room before she wrapped herself in blankets and dozed off into sleep. 

Her heart was torn into two split pieces. 

She just didn’t know, or want to know, which piece belonged to which man. 

Finn _or_ Bellamy. 

After deciding it was too early to think of such a decision, she sits up in the bed with defeat and blinds her face from the sun. How long had she been asleep? The palms of her hands rub her cheeks to try and wake up, but she was met with hair stuck to her skin and a tangled mess. 

Her throat burns, and she wants to get up to brush her teeth of smelling of alcohol and forgotten tears. 

She reaches behind her to try and grab for her blanket and wrap it around her shoulders, but she grabs the paper instead. Clarke hums, feeling curious as she rubs her eyes with the other hand. 

“What _the_—“ She holds the papers in front of her, in awe of how they’ve been stapled together and ready to be sent and delivered. 

She reads the first line in a whisper. 

Then, it hits her. 

The divorce papers. _Signed by Bellamy_. 

There’s so many questions that spark in her mind, but one stands out like the best performer on a stage—and it makes her want to go back to sleep, makes her want to wish this was a dream—and she feels like she could cry. 

Can she leave Arkadia again? 

_Can she leave her home_? Just a short twenty four hours ago, she was convinced that nobody could change her mind when she thought she would catch the next flight out of Arkadia, the second Bellamy signed the papers. But, she had seen how broken he was without her. 

She knows that his only wish for her future is that she was _happy_, and Clarke has caught herself multiple times in the past few hours thinking of him. Thinking of the memories, of how she hurt him, of how she _never_ wanted to hurt him. She thought of how happy she was with him. 

Could she leave him again? Can she turn her back and forget him to live a _perfect_ life? 

Clarke knew she had two options. 

She knew that if her mother was here to talk to her about what to do, she would chose the _obvious_ answer that would make the most sense. 

She also knew that if she listened to how her heart yearned to feel Bellamy touch her again, to kiss him—she would chose something else, she would choose the option that her mother wouldn’t like. 

_Head over heart_. That’s a lesson of what she was forced to learn, and she went along with it for too long. 

She doesn’t want to change. She just wants to listen to her heart. Clarke wished she could choose who she wants to be with, who she _wants_ to be, but for right now, she’s stuck. 

She doesn’t know how to get out of the past, or live in the future. Although, it seemed like nothing ever made sense after her father died. 

After she left Bellamy. 


	5. Darling, Nobody Said This Would Last Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you mean?” Bellamy hesitates before throwing the ring, frozen in stance as he looks at her deviously. 
> 
> Clarke’s eyes narrow and points a finger at him, “You’ll have to chase me around the block to get this dolphin out of my hands, Blake. Are you possibly ready for that?” 
> 
> * * * 
> 
> She sighs in defeat, “I missed you, if that makes either of us feel better.” 
> 
> It was truly the calm before the storm. 
> 
> Octavia’s shoulder’s tensed and she couldn’t look straight. So, she stared at her lap. As if she was about to confess was something to be embarrassed about. “You wanna know something?, I hated myself for missing you as much as I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been two weeks. 
> 
> Yes, I know. 
> 
> HOWEVER! this chapter is hitting 5k words and I hope that’s enough to forgive me haha. The next chapter is gonna be so intense, with some confessions and another interaction between bellarke that matches canonically with the movie! 
> 
> So please stay excited, and leave kudos or comments if this fic makes you happy to read it. Thank you! (I’ll be busy for next week, so expect the next update before next Tuesday!)

> “_My love, my love, my love, my love_  
_Won't you stay a while? (Hold me while you wait)_  
_ This is you, this is me, this is all we need_  
_ Is it true? My faith is shaken, but I still believe_  
_ This is you, this is me, this is all we need_  
_ So won't you stay a while_?” 
> 
> _ **HOLD ME WHILE YOU WAIT — LEWIS CAPALDI** _

_* * * _

**APRIL 25TH 2001**

_“_Come on babe, have a little faith in me.” 

Clarke shook her head, giggling as she clutched onto the dolphin stuffed animal to her chest. She admired Bellamy as he tried to get his last ring to latch onto the glass bottle, which would earn him another prize. 

“I had faith in the beginning,” Bellamy scoffed, hand over his heart acting as if she offended him. “And that was like five rounds ago.” 

If she wasn’t across the table, or off to the side as he tried to focus on the game in front of him, Bellamy could’ve kissed her to stop her teasing. Since he couldn’t do that, he made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. 

“If I get this ring inside and I win, you have to give up the dolphin.” Bellamy argued, and smirked when Clarke gasped through her laughter. She grew serious when he wouldn’t let up, so he looked up at the row of prizes he would be offered if he won this round and he made a decision. “Since you have such little faith in your boyfriend, I’ll win you the panda bear and you give me the dolphin.” 

“Why can’t I keep both?”

”Because you think I can’t win you another one,” Bellamy reasoned, and his smirk slowly turned into a grin. He loved these games, and he knew he could win this round with the luck of having thrown two perfect shots in a row. He was only teasing her, but he adored the look of awe on Clarke’s face when she looked at him. With a hand on his hip, hand holding onto the plastic ring; he waits for an answer. “So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart?” 

“Are you gonna stop with the nicknames, it won’t work._” _Clarke groaned because she hated getting called random names. (But in reality, she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her heart when the name passed Bellamy’s lips, she could accept anything from him.) She really didn’t want to complain, so she accepts his challenge. “You have yourself a deal because getting the panda won’t be your only challenge.” 

“What do you mean?” Bellamy hesitates before throwing the ring, frozen in stance as he looks at her deviously. 

Clarke’s eyes narrow and points a finger at him, “You’ll have to chase me around the block to get this dolphin out of my hands, Blake. Are you possibly ready for that?” 

She was _such_ a tease. He loved her so much, so he shouldn’t complain when he wants to play around with her. With the gentle breeze of the night, the buzz of screaming and joyous children around them as they traveled to different booths and games, the spring season had just begun. There’s no other place he’d rather be, because his girlfriend was in front of him hugging a stuffed animal that he won for her (filling him with what he liked to call, ‘boyfriend pride’) and her smile was contagious. 

He felt at peace. 

He felt like Arkadia was the best place to be. 

Bellamy ran his hand through his black curls, thankful for the lack of humidity this time of year so he won’t have to worry about putting endless product in his hair so it could stay in one place. It also helped Clarke, as she loved to run her fingers through his hair. Which kind of boyfriend would he be, if he didn’t let her do whatever she wanted to him? 

“Are you watching me?” Bellamy questioned softly, preparing to throw the ring as he winds his hand back behind his head and closes one eye, just to find the right angle to toss. 

“You know I am, Bell.” She said sincerely and it made him warm inside, and the smile couldn’t possibly get any wider on his face. How could he love someone so much? How can he deserve someone like Clarke? It blew his mind every time he thought about it, knowing that she was his. “Are you gonna win the prize for me?” 

“You know it.” He assured, and he throws the ring and holds his breath. 

There’s a slight ding when the ring makes contact with the bottle, as it circled around the rim before settling on top. 

_He did it_. 

Of course, it wasn't hard for him but he got a kick out of making it seem like it was. 

When Bellamy thanks the worker at the booth after being handed the medium sized panda bear, he didn't realize that he mindlessly gave Clarke a head start in running away from him. It was difficult trying to run and scream her name into the crowd of people, but adding his laughter and amusement into the mix wasn’t helping his effort. 

He’s seconds away from giving up, when he makes it across half of the town carnival and he couldn’t spot the blonde anywhere. He pulls out his phone from his back pocket, looking around one last time and he chuckles to himself. He couldn’t believe how far she had gotten in such little time, as he held the stuffed animal under his arm as he began to dial her number. 

Until, his arm gets pulled in the opposite direction and he doesn’t have time to try and fight the person that was dragging him along into a dark divider in between booths and tents. 

“_Hey_—“ He argued immediately, trying to tug his arm back but then his eyes begin to clear in the darkness around him and he doesn’t mistake the color of the ocean in the eyes in front of him.

He couldn't help himself when he laughs at her antics. 

“You are so sneaky, you know that?” He says, Clarke only copies him and giggles. 

“I can’t believe you did it,” She replies in disbelief, tugging at his sleeve as she reaches for the stuffed animal in his grasp. 

"Did you really doubt me?" He asks with a glint in his eyes, sounding surprised. She then tries to reach for the prize that was stuffed under his arm, but Bellamy keeps it away from her, “Nope, give me the dolphin first.” 

Clarke pouts, “I’m proud of you for winning the panda, though.” As if it should be enough, she would have another thing coming. 

“Don’t change the subject,” He warns softly, paying too much attention to the way she pulls on his collar and leans into his personal space. Suddenly, it all makes sense of why she brought him here. It makes his cheeks blush, and turn hot under her palms when she cradled his face in her hands. “Is this why you brought me here? So _you_ could persuade me into—“ 

“I’m not persuading you to do anything Bellamy--and I'm certainly not asking for you to kiss me or anything,” She teases as she attempts to pull away, only for Bellamy to put his phone back into his pocket and use his hand to wrap an arm around her waist. Her gasp, unlike before, is light and breathtaking when she’s engulfed in his arms. 

If Bellamy was honest, his heart was pounding in his ears and pulse quickening faster when she demanded things from him. 

“Not asking, _huh_?” He says with a tilt of his head, breath tickling her cheek as he leans into her ear. “So you aren’t planning to take the panda from me when I kiss you?” 

Clarke could feel her knees go weak and she grips onto his shoulder, “If I say no, would you do it anyways?” 

“You’re so lucky,” He paused, his mouth hovering over her’s so he could still speak as he prepares to kiss her. In a daze of her beauty, of the way she’s looking up at him, he added on. “_So_ lucky that I’ll do anything for you.” 

In the end, Clarke was more important to hold than the panda bear when the situation began to get more intense behind one of the carnival stalls. He decided that kissing his girlfriend was the priority, as he let Clarke untangle his fingers from the stuffed animal and fall next to the dolphin on the floor—she could agree that wrapping her arms tightly around Bellamy’s neck was more satisfying than wanting a stuffed animal—and they forgot about the world for a moment. Along with the cleanliness of the prizes, even the bet that began the whole charade. 

A moment neither of them expected to cherish so dearly. The world was large around them, the eager footsteps and chants of children who wanted to play games rather than walk around. In the distance, a bell would ding every few seconds, followed by a joyous scream of victory that would make Clarke smile against Bellamy’s mouth. 

“Do you really want the panda bear?” He abruptly whispered later, panting as he pulled away wanting a confirmation. His lips hover above her’s, to allow her to answer when both of them try to calm their beating hearts. Bellamy gives in, because how could he not? “You could have both, it’s okay.” 

Clarke is breathing heavily, looking up at him in a daze as her hand curls into the collar of his shirt to keep him close at all times. 

“The bet?” She asked in confusion. "You won the prize, Bell.” 

Bellamy nods in obvious confirmation, leaning forward to press his lips against her flushed skin, “I didn’t want to win the prize so I could _win_ the bet,” He began to explain. “I just wanted you to have it.” 

With the truth revealed, Clarke couldn’t help but smile wide and cup his face in her hands. He doesn’t move, only staying attentive to her gasp of awe and affection written on her face. 

He was sure that he looked the same. 

“Then, I’ll keep the dolphin.” She tangles her fingers through his front curls, and takes a breath. “You wanna know why? I don’t need the panda if I have _you_.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gets ready to playfully argue back, wondering if she thought of him as a carnival prize to be won. 

Clarke grabs the back of his neck and tilts his head upwards, lips softly against his mouth and leans back, careful to giving into his heaven-like embrace. “I win every other game in this _damn_ carnival if I have you with me. You’re the biggest prize a girl could ever ask for, and I’m so lucky to be the one to love you.” 

He thinks back to earlier, when he said that she was lucky to have him because he would do anything for her. 

Bellamy’s eyes narrow, pulse beating so hard against his chest that he feels he could turn dizzy. He feels so much for her, feels like his heart isn’t big enough to hold his love inside. His hand finds a place in the space between her collarbone and shoulders, hand feeling the beating of her heart beneath his fingertips. Bellamy pulls her closer, chest to chest and lets the sound of the carnival drown out behind him. 

Later that night, he doesn’t hesitate with putting the stuffed panda bear in the middle of his bed. It reminded him of how much Clarke loved him, so he doesn’t bother with any reactions he might get from Miller, his mother, or his own sister. 

(A few years later, Bellamy stays quiet and doesn’t say a word when he packs up Clarke’s belongings from _their_ closet and stuffed the bear inside along with everything else that reminded her of him.

He doesn’t want to feel tempted to reach for the box on some nights, so he uses tape to seal it shut. 

And he doesn’t open it for five years. 

After he’s packed away the bear, he puts his wedding band back into it’s velvet case and places it into the very back of his bedside drawer. It didn’t take long to forget that it was there, just like how it didn’t take long for Clarke to fall out of love with him.) 

* * *

"And you're _totally_ alright with me going over there?" Wells asked for the hundredth time, just wanting to make sure that Clarke wouldn't feel uncomfortable if she was left alone in a crowd. It wasn't her first time going to one of Arkadia's carnivals, but it was the first in a long time and he didn't want to her to freak out. Although, Clarke didn't really understand why he was so worried about her. As long as she was far away from Octavia, Monty and Harper (even if she really did want to see the other blonde) then she would be okay. Plus, it gave her time to roam around and simply just observe. 

"They're your friends, Wells." He tilts his head sideways, as if he would fight her on that fact because she knew what he would say. He would say that they were once her friends too, and that would break her more than anything. So, she was smart, she doesn't give him time to respond. She grabs him by the shoulders in the middle of a crowded pathway, eyes flickering to the small group of people she once knew who were off in the distance.

Clarke spots Octavia, her legs crossed as she leans across a single picnic bench with a plastic plate of various fair food with a wide smile—"I'll be fine, I'll text you when I wanna leave later." 

It was their plan, one they thought of last night when he first invited her to come. 

Wells huffs, then grins like he usually does. "Will you at least try and enjoy the carnival?" He paused, placing a hand on her shoulder to match her gesture with a sympathetic smile growing on his face. He doesn't say anything when she sighs at his request, because deep down he wants to say so much more but he settles for saying, "I know you're leaving on Monday, but that's only three days away Clarke. So, I'm sorry if I want my best friend to have some fun and enjoy her time back home." 

Her arms drop to her sides, eyes going a little wide. 

"Fine," She replied, turning him around and forcing him to walk in the other direction with a shove. There's a part of her that wants to be alone anyways, to think about how she only had three days in Arkadia and she had no idea when or if she'd return. Clarke didn't need to drag anyone else down with her sorrowful gazes and awkward tension from just standing beside her, especially when he could have a better time enjoying the carnival if he was with his friends.

Instead of leaving her without a second thought, Wells turns around and gives Clarke a quick hug just to tell her to be careful and have her phone on if anything were to happen. She takes her chance, whispering into his ear to make him promise, “Please, don't tell them I'm here." 

Deep down, she was still scared of confronting them because she didn't want to explain herself. She wasn’t sure, really, there was so many reasons why she was so hesitant to go up to them. Clarke was afraid of being embraced in the love she forgot she felt around her friends, and it just made sense. 

If she wants to leave peacefully, without another dagger into her heart, she couldn’t talk to any of her old friends. 

It would hurt too much. 

To be told that she broke their hearts, that she left them behind, _all of it_. She fights herself on thinking they would still think of her as a friend, that maybe they still love her just as much as they did before. 

(She doesn’t want to know that either.) 

Perhaps, staying clueless about her friends’ opinions would be best for her after all. As she watches Wells walk away from her, she turns around to walk in the opposite direction—just in case—and takes a deep breath to try and free the nerves in her chest. There’s a weight holding her down, making her feet drag against the concrete with a clouded mind. The only thing she could think of is how much of a fool she looks like, walking around in a town carnival by herself with nothing to say to anyone. 

Clarke thinks of her dad, instead. To give her something to focus on, and make it seem like she’s too busy thinking of something important. She thinks of how good of a person he was, how cheerful and supportive he was to everyone in his life. How _supportive_ he was to strangers as well, any chance he had. He was nice like that. Clarke knew that her dad worked in Polis, in the Intensive Care Unit for a better part of twenty years. When he wasn’t home with his wife and daughter, he would be saving lives to help other families. 

That’s the reason why she so willingly left with her mother six years prior. Or one of them, at least. It was because, maybe she would feel a sense of comfort and familiarity if she worked in the same hospital as her father. Clarke’s mother began to gain public attraction, after saving the life of Marcus Kane, a senator in the city’s congress who got stabbed after dealing with one supporter of his rival for his seat. After that, the pieces of her new life seemed to snap together like a puzzle. 

Clarke knows, and has always had a gut feeling that her mother felt so prideful in saving Marcus Kane’s life because she couldn’t save her husband. She would talk about the incident every time Marcus invited her to speak in public, expressing her gratitude and procedures to anyone who asked. It was in that moment where she realized that Marcus was viewed so highly in the eyes of the public, when her mother had news articles written about her work and successful surgeries every other week because people were so impressed. _Impressed_ by the fact that she saved so many times, like its never been done before. 

Being the daughter of Abby Griffin, came with unfortunate perks. Clarke would see behind the forced smiles, the harsh grip of her mother’s handshake when she met someone new. They were both hurting behind a mask, it was easy to see. After the sudden death of her father due to a freak car accident where his car was recoiled twenty feet back on impact, all because an export truck from Polis was driving down a narrow road when he shouldn’t of done so. _Her father died on impact_. 

Everything happened so fast after that. 

It was her two month anniversary with Bellamy, just that Tuesday when her dad died on a Saturday. 

Her mother was forced to work shifts as a grieving widow for the next week until the funeral. 

Clarke felt like she couldn’t be fixed. 

Then, flashing forward another month into her life of chaos and destruction that brought out the worst in her. Clarke and her mother traveled to Polis, hoping that being away from home for a while would ease her mind from the pain. She met Finn, the first doctor on call who introduced her to the staff and MD’s who helped her get around Polis Memorial on her first day of shadowing a mentor. 

(Theolonious Jaha was her mentor as she began Pre-Med, and Clarke would always lie and say she had spoken to Wells just to get him off her back. Just to forget about the life she’s ultimately leaving, to move on. To try and heal her heart.) 

She hadn’t seen Theolonious in months, maybe even a year. Ever since she graduated with her bachelors degree two years prior, her new internship at Polis Memorial was taking up her time. While he worked in the ICU, she had been doing 24 hour call shifts to any department that needed her help. As time passed, as one year turned into six, she was always hesitant to see anyone she knew from Arkadia who would give her an invite to come back. 

Because, how could she say no? If she didn’t go back, she wouldn’t have to face her problems. She wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else more than she already did, if Clarke just stayed away. 

_Clarke misses her dad_. She really did. 

Although, one thing she learned a long time ago was that her heart would never be able to fill the void that her father held for eighteen years. She had such a close relationship with him, so of course nobody would come close. Clarke learned that it was never the right thing to ignore the parts of her soul that made her who she was. She ignored her friends, her dog, her _husband_. All because her grief was blinding, making her see through a cloud of smoke when the rest of her life was a rainbow. 

Clarke was _happy_. Oh _god_, when she was with Bellamy, he made her smile so much that her cheeks would ache terribly. (She hoped that nobody would spare a glance in her direction, knowing she must’ve looked a little crazy smiling to herself with her head hung low.) They were almost nineteen, fresh out of high school and so deeply in love, determined that their first love would be the last. 

She could laugh about it now. They were young and in love, but she knows it was the best thing in her life. The way he looked at her, a bright gleam in his eyes that sparkled in the lamp lights of his car when he caught her sideways, it was something every girl dreamed about. 

(She misses her dad, partly because she knew that if he was alive, he wouldn’t of approved of her moving away when things felt heavy in her mind. But, grief did something to a person. It made them rethink everything good, made them overthink the bad things as if you could change the outcome with a snap of your fingers.) 

She knows what Bellamy said was true. 

A hundred percent. 

She left him when things got tough. 

But now, she’s back. She’s back in Arkadia where he’s only minutes away from her, and Clarke had no idea what to do. What to say to make it all better. 

(Things are _still_ tough, her heart hurts every once in a while with a reminder of how good of a person her father was. How much she misses him. But, she doesn’t want to ignore the other part of her life anymore. The life left behind, she wants to reach for the old Clarke and pull her back into reality. The same reality where she was happily in love, and not a stranger to the people she grew up with. 

But, she wants to feel things again. She knows she loves Finn, and could love him forever if she wanted to. He was sweet, treated her well, and hid her from the cameras when she didn’t want to be seen if the two of them were out with her mother. He loved _her_, too. Finn searches for her in a crowd and finds her instantly, he makes quick remarks with their friends that make her laugh every time. 

Her mother adores him. 

But, it was like her mother had changed herself too. She had just wanted to provide for her daughter, her city and everything else in between to make her stable both emotionally and physically. The job as mayor was straining, as she worked early into the morning and had too many staff members asking if she needed anything when she was capable of taking care of herself. That’s the issue, Clarke realized soon after her mother’s first term, that her mother wanted to make sure Clarke was _okay _bothfinancially and emotionally. 

If she was with the best neurosurgeon in Polis Memorial, then she would be set for life. She wouldn’t have to worry about paying bills, or having no excuse to not finish medical school in full and become a respected doctor just like her father. She wouldn’t have to drive three hours back and forth between Polis and Arkadia just for a shift in the morning, she wouldn’t need Bellamy to—_No, this is wrong_—because she shouldn’t be thinking about him. 

She shouldn’t love him anymore. 

She shouldn’t be back in Arkadia.

Clarke felt like ripping her hair out until she cried out in distress, because she shouldn’t be in love with Bellamy, not anymore. But, she is. 

And she never stopped. Bellamy and Finn were so different from eachother, yet only one man made her feel like the girl she wants to be. Only one man made her feel loved eternally, like he didn’t need to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her close when the cameras were on. 

Arkadia didn’t _even_ have news stations. 

Yet, if cameras were around, if Clarke had the strength back then to stay with Bellamy through thick and thin—he wouldn’t need to keep her close, he would let her be her own person when they were together—and the reminder makes her stop in her tracks. 

Clarke bumps into a family of five when she comes to a halt, muttering an apology under her breath. She doesn’t acknowledge their reaction, her breathing shallow and heart racing. 

_She still loves Bellamy_. 

He let her go on purpose. He _didn’t_ want to go after her, he wanted to let her grow into whoever she needed to be to grieve. 

That’s when she hears a voice come from behind her, repeatedly calling her name loudly until her ears stopped ringing. 

“Clarke?” 

Clarke began to turn, but she froze mid way. 

_Oh. No_. 

She knows that high pitched voice anywhere. 

“Clarke,” The voice says again, more urgently. “Will you turn around?” 

And she does, only to be met with the wide eyes and raised brows of Octavia Blake. Her jet black hair tied back into a ponytail, her smile gone, and her red flannel tied around her waist. There’s a wrinkle inbetween her brows when she raised them, and Clarke could take it as a sign that she’s older now. 

Clarke’s mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out, then she closes her mouth in a quick motion. She had been afraid of this for so long, that she forgot how to act around Octavia. The younger girl was the little sister of her best friend turned boyfriend for most of her life, and she’s standing in front of her like an idiot. 

_A total idiot_. 

Octavia’s playing with the hem of her T-shirt, and Clarke knew exactly what that meant. She was nervous on the inside, but trying not to let it show. On the outside, her jaw was clenched and she didn’t look Clarke in the eyes. 

Until, Clarke started to ramble an explanation for the events of the last six years. She gestured with her hands with a low voice, almost hushed. “Octavia, I know what I did was wrong and I—“ 

“Not here.” It’s all Octavia said in reply, cutting her off even though her eyes start to water. She was always so good at keeping her emotions at bay, Clarke envied that. She grabs for Clarke’s wrist, pulling her along to the very end of the row of booths to an empty water-gun station and sits her down in front of her. 

“Octavia?” Clarke asks, confused by how frantic the other woman was acting. 

Octavia sits down in a huff, eyes trailing up and down Clarke’s body to analyze her to see if anything’s changed. To see if age had done something to her, because if she grew, then maybe she’d have an excuse for being gone for so long and why it felt like she never left at the same time. 

“Let me start,” Octavia said, gaze trained on the table as she leaned against it for balance. The stools weren’t sturdy, but her body was in shock still. She couldn’t even believe they were doing this, she was finally going to get things off her chest. Both of them would have the opportunity to make things right. She speaks in strong determination, a tone hard enough to convince anyone to listen. “Then, you could explain your stupid decision to leave me behind. Because, I’m not going to avoid you anymore when you finally realized you had to come back home.” 

Clarke nods, her voice gentle. Even though her heart is tearing, breaking at its seams. It was painful, to hear her mistakes aloud. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” Knowing the digs and harsh words were true, and there was no easy way to put it. Clarke took a deep shaky breath, debating if she should say the truth before things could possibly turn for the worst. 

She sighs in defeat, “I missed you, if that makes either of us feel better.” 

It was truly the calm before the storm. 

Octavia’s shoulder’s tensed and she couldn’t look straight. So, she stared at her lap as if what she was about to confess was something to be embarrassed about. “You wanna know something?, I hated myself for missing you as much as I did.” 

Clarke felt like she got punched in the stomach, a gasp leaving her lips. She shouldn’t of felt horrible for a mistake she didn’t make, it was on all Clarke.

“You didn’t—“ She felt horrible, because she ended up hating herself too. 

Octavia looked up, locking eyes with the blonde. It’s been too long, having no recognition of the girl she’s grown up idolizing. “I think it’s reasonable since you were the most important friend in my life, but I’m sure Bellamy had it worse.” She snapped. 

“_Octavia_.” Clarke warned, the subject sore. 

Octavia shook her head, “I missed you too much, when I feel like you didn’t even think about me not nearly as much as I did. I thought about you everyday, and you were gone, Clarke. What were you even doing?” 

Clarke couldn’t say it. 

Why? Because she was thinking about Octavia too. And Bellamy. 

_Every single day_. 

* * *

Octavia wished that the urge to get up and throw her arms around Clarke in the tightest embrace, would be enough to overcome the sadness and anger that’s fueling her desire to find out what happened with Clarke. Why did she leave? Why did she leave everyone she cared about, it was all she wanted to know. 

She wished for a lot of things over the past six years, the most important thing was to have Clarke back home.

Her wish came true.

Now, she just has to get Clarke to explain herself. (Octavia knew wholeheartedly that she was disobeying Bellamy’s word, when he called her the other night to promise that she wouldn’t speak to the blonde. But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was knowing the truth. 

She was hoping it would give her answers for Bellamy too, knowing it would help him move on from her.)

Octavia isn’t stupid either. Being able to tell from the stern and stubborn girl in front of her, who hadn’t changed in the past six years, that she’s still sensitive to hearing Bellamy’s name like it was an open wound being dabbed with alcohol. 

She just wanted to know if losing Bellamy was the worst thing to ever happen to her, because the ring on her finger proves otherwise—and there’s a lot of things that Clarke didn’t know about how _far_ Bellamy was willing to go to get her back—so it had to be something more. 

She was in love with somebody else. 

But, _god_, Octavia Blake knows what it means to love someone forever and fall in love with someone because they’re in front of you and the other isn’t. She knows Clarke loves Bellamy, and now she just wants to know if the blonde still _cares_ about her. 

She was telling the truth earlier. 

She missed Clarke terribly. The feeling of losing her, her closest friend, felt like ripping out her heart and someone stomping all over it. 

That’s when she begins to understand how Clarke felt, and why she had to leave. Because, when a person from your family leaves or _dies_—it’s like everyone else not being able to be happy or stay true to themselves—because a piece of them is missing. 

Gone like the wind, even. 


	6. The Bad Kind Of Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m a different girl, now.” Clarke shakily sighs, letting her first wall of defenses fall when she stumbles back. He was fighting back with cautious advances, knowing where to hurt her, just as she was doing to him. “You know that.” 
> 
> “Different, _huh?_” Bellamy shuts his hood with more aggression than needed, licking his lips. “I told you that I didn’t recognize you when you came back, and I was right. Because I don’t see the girl that made me feel like I had everything I could ever want. I don’t see the girl who never felt happier that her parents accepted the possibility of a grandchild at nineteen, or the girl I wanted to be spend the rest of my life with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month, yes I know. However, to whoever is still reading this fic, I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you can forgive me for updating so late and seeming like I forgot about this. Which I didn't!!! I hope y'all enjoy the surprise canon twist six chapters in, and some angst! This was one of my favorite chapters to write. (find me on twitter!) 
> 
> (WARNING: talk of miscarriage)

> "_You're writing lines about me; romantic poetry_  
_Your girl's got red in her cheeks, 'cause we're something she can't see_  
_And I try to refrain but you're stuck in my brain_  
_And all I do is cry and complain because second's not the same_
> 
> _I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight_"
> 
> ** _IS THERE SOMEWHERE - _ ** ** HALSEY **

* * *

"Remember the night before my sixteenth birthday?" Octavia leaned forward, turning in the stool so that her elbows were on the table. She didn't even want to even look at Clarke anymore, as she wiped the spilled tears on her cheeks. "You told me that you were so happy that I met Jasper, that I finally met a boy who would treat me good." 

Clarke nods, remembering the night with guilt settling in her stomach. It was during her senior year of high school, when her parents would both work the night shifts and Aurora had no trouble letting her stay with Bellamy and Octavia until the morning. It was during the time where Octavia would fall asleep while the blonde braided her long waves, and Clarke would slip away from her best friend's room to climb into bed with her boyfriend. 

Those were simpler times. 

Where her mother wasn't bothering her about getting out of this town, when her father wasn't dead, and she was living in a perfect bubble of marriage with Bellamy. 

"How could I forget?" Clarke frowned. Too many memories are clouding her brain, forcing her to shut her eyes while looking to her lap. "You used to tell me everything about your day at school, or complain about how _bad_ of a brother Bellamy was for not letting you see Jasper." She remembers when her hands would ache with writing chemistry notes to study, and how sitting behind the younger girl to thread her fingers through her black raven hair would sooth her mind for just a while longer. She remembers when Bellamy would make them all dinner, usually heating up leftover meatloaf from the night before or fried chicken and French fries because it was an easy meal. She shook her head at the memory, not wanting to recognize the fact that she thought of Bellamy's voice saying those words. "Or when you had no clue how to solve geometry questions, and you'd try and explain the problem while I pulled your hair." 

"But hey," Octavia followed her train of thought, shrugging. "It worked, and I passed the class." 

"You're smart, you can't deny that." 

Octavia tensed, "I wasn't smart enough to realize what had been going on between you and my brother." 

Clarke wished she would stop bringing him up into their conversation, wanting to heal their relationship first. Every time she's heard his name in the past few days, it just reminded her of the old girl she used to be. The girl who got married after high school to her boyfriend of three years, who would ride in the back of her father's pickup truck with cassette tapes playing while he traded his doctor scrubs for an old pair of jeans with cement stains from years prior that still fit him. The very _real_ torture she put herself through _before—  
_

"What Bellamy and I went through, the way I left him, I _mean,_" Clarke tried to make sense of how to say things in a way that wouldn't hurt either of them. A girl who's run away from her problems, who forced herself to forget about her first love, had to face them at some point. "I never wanted to leave Arkadia." 

"Things happen, I guess." When Clarke thinks about it now, she remembers to Monty's calm composure when recognizing her new engagement ring and how he didn't even snap. She knows that Octavia's snark in her voice when she spoke, is exactly what he would've wanted to use when saying goodbye. 

"_Octavia_," Clarke pleaded, turning her in chair that squeaks when she faces the younger girl. The girl she used to know everything about, "I don't know how to explain this to you, but it's not as bad--" 

"Bad?" Octavia cuts her off, and raises her voice. "You left everyone who ever cared about you, Clarke!" 

Clarke's eyes water, and the words get caught in her throat before she has the courage to force them out. 

"I don't," With gritted teeth, she tries to make the other girl understand the past six years through her perspective. It was like Clarke didn't even know the reason why she left anymore, as she rethinks about the way she clung to Finn like a lifeline and accepted her mother's fate and orders without fighting back. She was escaping the feeling of a heart shattered to the ground, giving the job of repairing her back together to a man that wasn't her husband because maybe, it could've fixed her. It was a mistake, everything she's done in the past six years. "I don't how to deal with any of this." 

"Do you love him?" Octavia asks a bit later, after hearing enough of Clarke sniffling back her own tears. "The guy you wanna marry, now?" Her fist is clenched against the table, her thoughts are filled of her brother and how he got emotional over the phone, just the other night because of how he couldn't stop himself from loving the woman in front of him. 

The three of them were such a unit together, but she would always side with her brother. 

Clarke flattens her hand against the table, so her engagement ring shines in the afternoon sun. The diamond was bigger than the jewelry that's sold in the small town of Arkadia, and the tension visibly shifts between them. A thick cloud of unspoken words and apologies waiting to be said, and Octavia waits for an answer in silence. 

"Most of the time." 

"What?" Octavia tilts her head, confused as to why she didn't get a direct answer of yes. She shouldn't feel hopeful anymore, and suddenly, sitting down wouldn't make her process the information so she stands abruptly and tries to forget about how much she wants her brother to happy. "What do you mean by that?" 

Clarke lets out a sob, feeling a weight lift from her chest from admitting that out loud. She covers her face with her hands, "I love him, obviously. I _mean_, his ring is on my finger, right? I should be only thinking of my fiancé, who has treated me so well these past four years." It was more a shock for herself, than Octavia who stood in disbelief behind her. In a split moment, she lets herself be eighteen again and thinks of another man. "But, I don't want to be with him." 

"You can't possibly think that this fixes everything," Octavia laughs, because she doesn't know what else to do. "Clarke, you left my brother for six years." 

The reminder always stings, and Clarke winces. 

"I left you for six years, and I-" Clarke paused, and let out a shaky sigh "I don't have a reason that would make sense to you, right now. It wouldn't make you feel better, but I just want you to know that I regret it." 

Octavia doesn't say anything when the blonde begins to cry again, instead now she's crying into her folded arms and doesn't hold anything back. She understands how tough it must've been for her, to leave behind her family when she feels so out of place in a bigger world. She doesn't know if she could forgive her on Bellamy's half, but it would be the start. When, Octavia places a hesitant hand on Clarke's shoulder to comfort her burst of emotions--Clarke feels like she doesn't deserve it. 

Even, when she knows this, she sits up and reaches for the younger girl's hand and squeezes tightly. 

"I regret leaving him." It was a whisper, her voice raspy from all the crying she's done in the past few minutes. It felt like the right thing to admit, because she needed advice on how to get Bellamy's attention _after_ confronting him the day after he signed the papers and didn't know how to ask for it. "I don't want him to leave this place, not ever. It's his home." 

Octavia pulled her hand away, and in a quieter tone says, "He thought _you_ were his home since the day he met you." 

Clarke doesn't have control over her actions, as she clutches her jacket to her chest with shaking fingers and goosebumps on her skin. What has she done? What could she possibly do to make this right, after all this time? She thinks of when she used to dream of him, when she first moved into her apartment that was shared with her mother in Polis. How she kissed the ring he gave her and threw it in the bottom of her suitcase, thinking she'd never be brave enough to face him after what she's done to him. 

How much she cried for him. 

"Is this how he felt?" Clarke asks carefully, referring to her plead for him to stay. She was afraid she would either get a slap in the face or be left alone to register the answer she already knew. It was a conclusion she came to after coming home to Wells, when she stood motionless as Bellamy brushed past her as she stared at his pickup truck, how he would leave this town just as she had done to him. She couldn't rid herself of the feeling of resentment, heartbreak, confusion, and longing that she forced deep into her chest so that she could even speak to him. "When I left town?" 

"I think you know the answer," Octavia frowned, standing completely still. "and you also know how he feels, but the question you need to answer is how _you_ feel." 

When Octavia walks away, Clarke doesn't move from the vacant corner in the back of the street fair. 

She fiddles with the ring on her finger, thinking of how good of a man Finn was. She would _never_ not love him, but he wasn't the guy for her. 

With Bellamy's voice ringing in her ears, she creates a vision of him fixing the motor in his truck, with dirt and mud staining his clothes as he angrily walks away from her to get changed before his road trip to leave Arkadia. 

She could hear him perfectly, how he would jokingly say the words only because it's the one thing she's thought about for the past three days. 

_You don't find your soulmate at thirteen, it wouldn't be fun_. 

It wouldn't be fun, he was right about that, but it would be real. 

And with many trials of failures in her life, in the past six years--it brought her back to Arkadia, and it made her hate the way she treated him the first day she was back. Like he was forced to sign papers that wouldn't be a representation of how he still feels towards her, because their circumstances weren't ideal. Most couples fall out of love and divorce, but Clarke was never sure if she ever truly moved on from the past with him—and soulmates find their way back to each other. 

It took Clarke four years, and three days, to finally realize that Finn wasn't hers. 

* * *

**THREE DAYS EARLIER **

* * *

Clarke adjusts the thin strap of her dress, wishing her waistband was less tight so that she wouldn't feel like she was suffocating with the thought of confronting Bellamy. The dress fell below her knees with navy blue solid material, and she was thankful she wouldn't need to fix anything else as she walked up the front porch of his house. It was still early morning, birds chirping and a light breeze passing through the trees that made goosebumps form on her exposed skin. 

She holds her purse tightly to her chest, already feeling nervous about talking to him about the divorce papers. He signed them, and she _should_ be gone by now. However, she wasn't and doesn't know if she could leave without a proper conversation—one that wouldn't happen after an abrupt visit after six years, or a late night out—with Bellamy. 

As she raises her hand to knock on the wooden door, she gets startled by the loud barking of a dog. Clarke dismisses it quickly, knowing it could be a lost dog in the forest near by or someone walking past Bellamy's house. She knocks once, then twice, and takes a deep breath to calm herself down. 

She may have goosebumps from the slight chill in the air, but her palms are sweating with nerves. 

Was he not coming out to see her? Clarke peeks into the blinds of the window beside her, and finds the living room empty and finds herself thinking of what he told her the night before. Did he think that she wasn't going to talk to him after she found out that he did what she asked of him? (She was confused, because he seemed like he wanted her around for longer when he was complimenting her new life. The realization that he could be this hurt over her actions, Clarke wanted to explain otherwise. It was why she came. And why she hasn't left.) 

Her knuckles hover over the door for the third time, until she feels something wet nuzzle against the back of her calve that makes her jump. 

She turns around in a flash, looking down hoping she had kicked the spider or whatever _bug_ was on--

_Picasso_. 

Clarke sighs in relief, and squats down to run her fingers through the dog's golden fur and lets her lick her fingers when she got excited and tried to squirm in the constant attention. It was hard to try and not to cry, just knowing how much she had missed with Picasso's life because of her own selfish reasons. They had been through a lot together, the bad news, the two biggest losses of her life, the good....everything. And she left her puppy without looking back, without caring. She shakes her head at the negativity, knowing she would never get back to Polis if she dwelled in the past any longer. She feels like she's eighteen again, giggling at the way Picasso wouldn't stay still so Clarke could pet her calmly. 

"Hey, sweetie." She laughed when her tail swiped against her knee. "Where's Bellamy?" 

Picasso barked again, and began to run down the stairs and turn to make her way around the house. 

Clarke didn't hesitate to follow, as she walked slowly to try and not startle Bellamy with her _unannounced_ visit. She didn't want to get him upset over her anymore, and hoped they could have a civilized conversation about what needs to be said before she leaves. 

(There's a small voice in the back of her head that makes her shove it down deep inside her chest, the part of herself that wants to stay behind and be with him.) 

She pushes the latch of the metal gate open the entire way, spotting Picasso laying down on the grass curled into herself. _Okay, good_. She was in the right place, and it makes her heart skip a beat when she sees Bellamy hunched over the motor of his truck with a wrench held tightly in his left hand. 

"Hey, Clarke," He says as she takes a breath to speak which cuts her sentence off. She stands there frozen, as Bellamy twists something into a place and leans forward to tug on the screw he just placed. "Good morning, It's nice to see you." 

She doesn't know what to say to _that_. 

He was oddly calm, like she had been an old friend rather than his wife (now, ex-wife because he signed the papers) and she tilted her head in confusion. She guessed that it was because he had been lifted from the burden of seeing someone he hadn't seen in person for six years, wanting her to leave already. 

"What are you working on?" Clarke asks instead, taking a step forward and watching as his back muscles tense as if he suspected her getting closer. He shifts to the side, and walks away to his tool box that's sat next to Picasso's sleeping form. He didn't want to be near her, she realized. Somehow, for a reason she already knows inside, the action made her flinch and she tried to hide it by stepping back into her original stance near the gate. 

She just wanted to talk to him. 

Bellamy looks up at her, and the sun shines on his face that's smeared with car grease and forehead that's lined with beads of sweat. His thin white t-shirt leaves nothing to her imagination, with his clean cut build and shirt following the outline of his muscles, and Clarke had to look away. His denim jeans hung low on his waist, and soon he returned to his spot beneath the hood of his car. 

“I tried to get the motor working today, cause I overheated it last night.” Bellamy chucked to himself as he uses a towel to wipe at his forehead. it seemed like a joke to him, everything that happened the night before. It had clearly slipped his mind, Clarke thought. “So do you need something from me?” 

  
  


He stops, then looks back at her to take note of her response. 

  
  


Clarke, on instinct, reaches for the gate behind her and clutches on tightly to the latch. It kept her grounded, from his blunt responses and weird aura today. 

  
  


“No, I, _uh_...” Clarke tried to force the words out of her mouth, curling a few pieces of hair that fell out of her low bun behind her ears. “I wanted to thank you for signing the papers that I woke up to this morning.” 

  
  


“It’s no problem.” He says the words too forced, the sharpness in his voice is evident when he continues to work on his car. For a moment, Clarke was tempted to grab him by the shoulder to make him look at her. “It finally gives me an excuse to leave this town so I should be thanking you.” 

  
  


Clarke could feel her mind short circuit; as if her nerves could explode when her pulse quickens. Her ears numb to his plan, and she doesn’t hold herself back when she strides over to him when he walks over to his tool box again to grab something. 

  
  


“You’re leaving?” She asks him, angrily reaching down to pick up his tool box right when he grabs for it as well. “You, you cant.” 

  
  


“Listen, if you just wanted to thank me for signing those damn papers then fine. It was something you wanted, so I did it.” Bellamy snapped and tugged the box in his direction which loosened her grip on it. “Let me live in peace.” 

  
  


“The house,” Clarke tried to reason, thinking of anything else to make him stay. To make him feel like there was still something to love from this town, even when she’s gone. “You’ve lived here for years, ever since we got married,” Clarke fought him, and sighed his name. “_Bellamy_.” 

  
  


Bellamy didn’t spare a glance when he replied, “Don’t bring up the past, it’s not worth talking about anymore. You’ve made that clear.” 

  
  


“I just don’t want you to lose—“ 

  
  


Bellamy let go of the box abruptly with a clenched jaw, and walked back to the hood of his car. It was a careful routine, and if Clarke could trap him correctly then she would be able to get him when he wasn’t watching or paying attention to her (which he seemed to be good at now) and she set the tools back down on the ground. 

  
  


Clarke repeated herself, “I don’t want you to leave this place behind and lose a piece of yourself just because I—“ 

  
  


“Are you really talking to me about leaving home?” Bellamy argued while clicking his tongue, shoulders tensed and a glossiness to his eyes. She could see the pain in his brown eyes, could feel the later regret she would wish wasn’t cutting her heart so deep when she starts a fight she can’t finish. “When you seem to think you lost more than me after we got married. After you left.” 

  
  


“I’m a different girl, now.” Clarke shakily sighs, letting her first wall of defenses fall when she stumbles back. He was fighting back with cautious advances, knowing where to hurt her, just as she was doing to him. “You know that.” 

  
  


“Different, _huh_?” Bellamy shuts his hood with more aggression than needed, licking his lips. “I told you that I didn’t recognize you when you came back, and I was right. Because I don’t see the girl that made me feel like I had everything I could ever want. I don’t see the girl who never felt happier that her parents accepted the possibility of a grandchild at nineteen, or the girl I wanted to be spend the rest of my life with.” 

  
  


“We lost the baby, Bellamy.” Clarke knows it was a low blow, the both of them knew the fire that would erupt between them when they brought it up after years trying to forget that it happened. She could feel her insides burn, her heart stings as if she was feeling the pain of a miscarriage all over again. “You were the one to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, that we could try again when we were ready.” 

  
  


“I was there for you, and I did my best to comfort you. I was there when we lost our child, _and_ I was there when Jake died.” Bellamy said with a croaked voice, the last few syllables cracking with emotion. He stares ahead, his voice monotone. “How do you think that made me feel? To lose the baby? Do you think it was easy for me too, especially after losing Jake?” 

  
  
  


Clarke thinks of the close relationship Bellamy and her father had, how it was to easy to picture him apart of her family. It makes her want to close her eyes and wish this was all a dream, a cruel dream for the past six years that would magically fix everything she regrets. 

  
  
  


She thinks of pregnancy test she took at nineteen, alone in the house as Bellamy worked his 9-5 job and Picasso was the only company she had. She thinks of the test being positive, of wondering how to tell her parents and her friends when she felt so happy that the baby would be raised by two people who maybe didn’t see it coming, but would love them either way. Always. 

  
  


She thinks of losing the baby a month later, waking up with piercing cramps and blood staining the bed as she cried into Bellamy’s arms on the bathroom floor for an hour before she called her mother. 

  
  


It was different for her, “I lost my dad, Bellamy. Everything was hitting me in every single direction, and all I felt was pain. Regret. Like I didn’t do enough for anyone close to me, and losing the baby and my dad so close together I—“ she sobbed out, covering her mouth with her hand. 

  
  


She didn’t tell anyone in Polis, not Finn, not Niylah—nobody. It was apart of being different, of being the new version of herself that didn’t go through loss or something that would be frowned upon up north. 

  
  
  


“And I lost my wife,” It’s all Bellamy says, and suddenly he’s walking towards her with his chest caving hard and eyes watering when they lock eyes. She reaches for the gate again, wondering how fast she could run away from the realization that’s been haunting her dreams for years. From the truth of it all, from how much she still wants to be with him. How she never wanted to leave. “I never thought, after that summer, that I would lose _you_ too.” 

  
  
  


“Don’t make this about me, don’t make me feel even worse about leaving.” It was a warning, her voice trembling. Her heart torn apart, “I wont be able to handle that.” 

  
  
  


Bellamy reaches behind her back, grabbing onto the latch of his gate and pushing it open so hard that it ricochets back into his grasp. He clears his throat, looking down to the ground then to how close they were together. “I didn’t know how to handle anything six years ago, when you left. I hope it’s better for you, and you could be happy.” 

  
  
  


“Bellamy,” Clarke begs, hand grabbing onto his bicep when he walks past her. She’s able to get him to stumble back into her space, as she tries to get him to look at her. She doesn’t want to look away, doesn’t want to walk away yet. 

  
  


She fears it’s the worst thing to happen. 

  
  


Bellamy avoids her gaze, “Don’t close the gate when you leave, then Picasso won’t be able to find her way to the house. I need some time alone right now” 

  
  


“It’s your house.” Clarke rasps. 

  
  


“It’s also _your’s_.” Bellamy replied and pulls his arm back, walking heavy steps down the trail leading to the steps. He says quietly, “But I guess it won’t belong to either of us after I sell it.” 

  
  


Clarke stood there speechless. There was no turning back now, as she tries to register the fact that he’s leaving Arkadia. 

  
  


He’s leaving behind the life he’s had for the past twenty six years. 

  
  


Just because of her. 

  
  


Because it reminded him too much of their relationship. 

  
  


And Clarke wishes it never ended between them. 

* * *

Clarke grazes her hand over her father’s tombstone, sitting down on the stone bench in front of his burial site and reading the text to herself. 

  
  


Her legs burned from walking for the past twenty minutes, but the town carnival was shutting down and she didn’t want to go back to Wells just yet. She told him to wait for him at the house, and she would call when she was ready to go back. 

  
  


“You have no idea the mess I’ve made, Dad.” Clarke whispered, her fingers shaking against the cold cement. “I made a mistake after you died, and I don’t know what to do. I wish you were here, because mom changed. We’ve both changed.” 

  
  


She pauses, feeling the guilt start to disappear finally admitting the truth to someone at least. 

  
  


“I wish I was eighteen again,” She admits, leaning close to her father’s grave so her forehead can touch her father’s name engraved. “I know you would be proud of me, but I didnt want this life, the success, any of it if I didn’t have you.” 

  
  


When she cries, it doesn’t stop her. 

  
  


“I never wanted to leave this place, Dad.” She said in a low voice, hoping he could hear her somewhere in the sky and guide her in the right direction. 

  
  


Then, a voice makes known behind her that makes her sit up straighter and wipe her tears away. 

  
  


“That makes two of us,” The voice mumbled, then the shuffling of footsteps get closer. 

  
  


She stands quickly, running her hands down the front of her thighs as if she was caught doing something wrong. She was just desperate to see her father, who was buried— 

  
  


Clarke gasps, then rubs at her eyes to try and rid her blurry vision. Her father’s memorial was buried in her backyard, in Bellamy’s backyard, and she was in his yard. 

  
  


When he steps into the moonlight, she stays frozen in time. 

  
  


Bellamy shoves his hands deep into his pockets, “I didn’t want to intrude but I just didn’t know who was back here. I should’ve known.” 

  
  


“How much did you hear?” 

  
  


Bellamy smiled sadly , but only for a second. “Enough for me to want to talk to you, if you let me.” 

  
  


“Yes.” Clarke sniffled. “Of course.” 

  
  


How could she say no? She hoped it would be better than the other day, being told by Wells that Bellamy hadn’t talked to anyone for the past few days to deal with the aftermath himself. 

  
  


She had hope that forgiveness was a powerful thing, and before, they would forgive eachother when nobody else would. 

  
  


It was their thing. And both of them still had love in their hearts for the other, and it would never go away. 

  
  


She wanted forgiveness. But, she would have to earn it. 


	7. Should’ve Said It (Before You Kissed My Neck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll always love you, Bell.” She didn’t care if he got mad at her for using her old nickname for him, reaching up to caress his cheek with her hand. 
> 
> “I know that,” Bellamy responded, exhaling softly when she cups his face. It was too much, the feeling of having her in his reach and not being able to do anything about it. “And maybe it’s foolish of me to want you to stay, so you could love me right _now_. So I’d be the one you want to be with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BACK TO BACK UPDATES? I was really just on a roll, and I absolutely love this chapter so thank you for reading!!

> _Come here and sit next to me_   
_Don't look at me while I'm breaking_   
_After what I'm gonna say_   
_I understand if you hate me_
> 
>   
_What do I do when I love you and want somebody else?_   
_What do I lose if I don't choose and keep it to myself?_
> 
> **BAD KIND OF BUTTERFLIES**_** —**_ _**CAMILA CABELLO**_

* * *

“I used to come out here, when things got tough.” Bellamy says, looking up at the sky with a blank expression on his face. He must be thinking of her father, and her all in the same. “When I thought of you.” 

**   
  
**

“I wish I had that,” Clarke laughed dryly, wiping under her eyes of tear streaks. Her attention was still focused on the grave stone in front of her, as she wraps her arms around herself. “Do you wanna know something funny? I came back here thinking I would be gone in a few hours, that I wouldn’t get sucked into the life style I had growing up.” 

**   
  
**

“It wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing, was it?” Bellamy teased, as he walked closer till he stood next to her slouched form. “I think we had a good run.” 

**   
  
**

A minute passes, and she doesn't want to hold anything back anymore. He was here, and she wanted to be with him in this insant**. **

“Do you hate me?” Clarke asks bluntly, looking up at him. 

**   
  
  
**

“At some point, I thought I did.” He was honest, shuffling awkwardly on his feet before sitting at the very end of the same bench that she sat on. He leans forward on his knees, to give her the most space. “But I realized that I could never hate you, because it wasn't something I could do forever.” 

**   
  
  
**

“I fit into the perfect life style up in Polis, it feels like I’m supposed to be there.” Clarke says instead, a headache brewing behind her temples when she thinks of her success as a doctor. Then, she thinks of how much Bellamy had been through by himself when they were supposed to do life together. “Then I came back, and I fit in here. I like to think I fit in with you, but I don’t know that anymore.” 

**   
  
**

“Don’t think about it.” He replied, rubbing his face roughly. “You know you always have me.” It was more of a fact than a statement. 

**   
  
  
**

It was a lie, she thought. 

**   
  
  
**

He hates her, yet loves her still. 

**   
  
**

It made no sense. 

**   
  
**

How she felt about him, it made no _sense_. 

**   
  
**

“I missed you.” Clarke mumbled as she picked on a loose string of her shirt, not feeling brave to look at him when she says it. “A lot more than you think I did.” 

**   
  
**

“You didn’t need to pick one or the other,” He refers to the different sides of the woman he remembered, how she wanted to be successful and humble at the same time. How she wanted to bring him along for the ride once upon a time. A time that he thinks has passed, “You could still have roots and wings to fly, and you need to understand that.” 

**   
  
**

All she understood about her life in that moment, is that her heart was beating rapidly in her chest because of the way he was talking to her. If anything, she’s felt like a bird with broken wings and a unclear place to call home. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy’s hand twitches, before reaching for one of her hands and letting his fingers tap against her knuckles to get him associated with her skin again. She doesn’t move, letting him do what he wanted to do. 

**   
  
**

She paused, not expecting him to continue further. Shamelessly, she never wanted it to end. 

**   
  
**

“Octavia told me that you regret leaving, and I thank you for telling her that.” He says. “She was beat up for the longest time over you leaving.” 

**   
  
**

“And you?” She was curious to know, after realizing he was willing to be open to her now. Clarke needed him to say it, to say how he feels about her right now. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, looking intensely at how she opens her hand inviting him to interlock their fingers. 

**   
  
**

“Saying how I feel won’t get me anywhere, not when things turned out the way they did for us.” He whispered to her, as he takes back his hand and rests it on his thigh. He doesn’t want to look at her, knowing his desires would be his downfall. 

**   
  
**

“Bell,” Clarke begs him, words caught in her throat when he shuffles further away from her. “I never wanted to hurt you. I meant it when I said it the other day.” 

**   
  
**

She hoped it would fix something between them, a part of a bridge that needs to be mended. She just wanted to keep him close for a while longer and she didn’t care how selfish it seemed. 

**   
  
**

She was engaged to another man, for heaven’s sake. 

**   
  
**

“Yeah, I know.” Bellamy nods and keeps his head down. “And I said I would never hate for you leaving. Not anymore.” 

**   
  
**

“So you _did_ hate me?” She wanted clarification. 

**   
  
**

It makes Clarke’s eyes water instantly, the thought. 

**   
  
**

“Not once, princess. Truly.” Bellamy lets the name slip on his tongue, and Clarke shivers when he finally looks up at her and their eyes lock. It reminds her of when he’d call her that after waking up in the morning, half asleep and soft. He keeps his distance, brows furrowed at the realization that he actually called her that for the first time in years. Then, he relaxed and leans to the side, so he could speak in a low tone. It was something he hadn’t admitted to anyone but himself, “there’s a difference between hate and love, and I—“ he pauses when she turns her head so their breaths mingle together, their faces inches apart. 

“I’ll always love you, Bell.” She didn’t care if he got mad at her for using her old nickname for him, didn’t bother to face any consequences of cutting him off. She reaches up to caress his cheek with her hand as his eyes flutter shut. It just felt like something she had to tell him. 

“I know that,” Bellamy responded, exhaling softly when she cups his face. It was too much, the feeling of having her in his reach and not being able to do anything about it. “And maybe it’s foolish of me to want you to stay, so you could love me right _now_. So I’d be the one you want to be with.”

Clarke asks quietly, “You don’t want to leave this place?”

“Not without the person that made this town feel like home.” Bellamy’s hand reached up to cover the hand on his face, and pulls her away from him. He doesn’t want to fight what he wants to say anymore, knowing it was now or never. “Not without you, baby.”

**   
  
**

His voice cracks when he calls her _baby_, and it was enough of a warning for the both of them to get as far from the other as possible. It was beginning to feel too normal, like they were still married. 

**   
  
**

He blinks, and as if in that split second, his eyes widen and he doesn’t recognize her. 

**   
  
**

“But, _you_,” Bellamy tried to find the right words to explain how he feels, as he stands and ends up stuttering on his words. “You’re getting married when you back to Polis, aren’t you?” 

**   
  
  
**

He navigates his way around the bench so he’s further away, as Clarke swiveled around to face him. It wasn’t an efficient plan to follow, but it was the best he had. 

**   
  
**

She clears her throat, not wanting to start crying in front of him. She thinks she’s done too much of that lately. 

**   
  
**

“We planned the date for December.” 

**   
  
**

“Good.” Bellamy encouraged, tugging his jacket closed without pulling the zipper up. It gave him something else to focus on, other than the ache in his heart. “I hope the second time is better for you.” 

**   
  
**

“Bellamy,” Clarke called out his name without thinking, as he starts to walk in the opposite direction towards his house. “_Bellamy_!” She doesn’t notice she’s beginning to cry, not until she licks her lips in distress and tastes faint salt of her tears. How dare he wish her a good life, when she didn’t want theirs to end like this. 

**   
  
**

She runs after him, grabbing his forearm and pulls him back as hard as she could. Clarke was surprised to find that he wasn’t bothering to fight back, as he stumbles into her arms with ease. She reaches for the collar of his jacket for stability, as his hands find her waist and keep her steady. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy didn’t know what he was doing anymore, as he leans her against the side of the house with both of their chests caving with the adrenaline of the moment. The sky is dark, their bodies hiding in the shadows of moonlight in the early morning, and Bellamy could still see the brightness in her piercing gaze when she stares at him. 

**   
  
**

He’s been debating with himself too much these past few days, not knowing if he should show up to Wells’ house with a bouquet of flowers or kiss her senseless until time allows their problems to be fixed on their own. This morning, it was Monty and Harper who convinced him to go the fair—they knew Clarke would be there, because of how persuasive Wells could be, and they were the only two other people who knew about what he did to try and get her back— and it felt like the worst decision he could make. 

**   
  
  
**

He was stuck consoling his sister after her conversation with Clarke, something he told her not to do when they last spoke (but he couldn’t be angry with her) and burying the urge to go find a clueless Clarke who didn’t know where she belonged. 

**   
  
  
**

“I can’t tell you what to do.” Bellamy wasn’t sure if he was saying this to convince himself that there was nothing he could do to keep her in Arkadia. He leans forward on his arms, hands crowning the side of Clarke’s face to keep him upright. 

**   
  
**

“I just wanna know how you feel about me,” She pleads, letting her back hit the planks of the wall behind her. 

**   
  
**

“That won’t change anything, and you know it.” Bellamy assured, leaning in closer until he placed a soft peck of his lips against her cheek. It was all he could handle, what he would allow himself to do. “You need to figure out what you want,_ who_ you want.” Then, he couldn’t stop himself from trailing his mouth down to her jaw and pressing another kiss there. He breathes only when necessary, as he listens to her soft exhales when he doesn’t move. 

**   
  
  
**

“Be honest with me, will you?” She questioned, as he pulls away from the sweet scent of her perfume when he kisses her neck. Her heart was beating out of her chest, it seemed like she would fall from the highest grounds of heaven, with her heart in her hands and ready to be given to him. 

**   
  
  
**

(It would always be him.) 

**   
  
**

“The only reason why I’m not kissing you dirty against the side of our house,” He said roughly, pulling back fully and giving himself a respectable distance to take deep breaths. She stands there in shock, “Is because that ring on your finger means you belong to someone else, and I can’t do something I’ll regret.” 

**   
  
  
**

“Bellamy—“ 

**   
  
**

“Go home,” He dismisses whatever she has to say, and gestures his hand to the driveway with a blank stare. “I’ll wait by the door until Wells comes to get you.” 

**   
  
**

Clarke could feel the ghost of his lips against her skin, and it makes her want to cherish this moment forever. 

**   
  
**

Even, if it feels like a harsh goodbye. 

**   
  
**

She got her answers, and now she would have to act. 

**   
  
**

How would she talk to her mother? 

**   
  
**

Can she break things off with Finn and come back, stay here? 

**   
  
**

She didn’t even know how to do that. 

* * *

[7:03AM] **Raven**: Okay, please don’t be mad but I made Niylah tell me what was going on with you. 

[7:05AM] Shouldn’t I have a right to know?? I mean...you left Polis? Without telling me! 

[7:07AM] first I thought you eloped with Finn somewhere without telling the rest of the staff, but c’mon? I thought we were best friends here, babe? You better tell me everything when you get back. 

[8:32AM] **Niylah**: Clarke I have something to tell you. but my phones about to die so I do—

**   
  
  
**

(Clarke tilts her head at these text messages, only feeling a bit sorry about not telling Raven but dreading the conversation she needed to have with Niylah. 

She was sure that she would explain how Raven’s tactics worked, like they do every time, and feel guilty for caving. 

It wasn’t a big deal. Not unless Finn knew why she was back home.) 

* * *

**   
  
**

Monty wrapped an arm around little Jordan’s waist, bouncing his son on his knee. 

**   
  
**

“Shouldn’t Clarke’s going away party be more spontaneous than this?” He gestured to the sweet tea in his hand, and the low hum of music from the radio that sat on the front porch of Well’s house. 

**   
  
**

“Who’s the one with the baby, again?” Jasper teased, pinching Octavia’s side when she laughs at his joke. 

**   
  
**

Harper narrows her eyes at him, then back to her husband. “I’m not complaining about my drink, it’s all on this guy.” She points to Monty, and takes a sip of her tea. 

**   
  
**

Clarke comes bursting through the door, sunglasses in her hand and a frown on her face. She didn’t want to leave now, when things were good. When she made up with her friends. She still had promised to keep. . 

**   
  
**

“I’m sorry I have to leave, guys.” She said, taking a seat next to Wells. After spending the night contemplating how to deal with Bellamy, she would find someway to talk to him later about how she feels about him. How she would deal with Finn, all of it. The cards displayed on the table, for him to grab. It made her feel lighter than she had been all week. Hell, even the past six years. “I’ll try and come visit when I can, but I can’t promise until Christmas.” 

**   
  
**

It was a promise she wanted to keep this time, not knowing where her future would lead her after she goes to Polis and tries to re-evaluate her life. The burden of telling her mother how she feels has always been heavy, constant on her shoulders. 

**   
  
**

“I’ll be waiting.” Octavia hesitated before smiling, raising her glass to take a sip as she leans into Jasper’s side. There was no iciness in her tone this time, just a girl hopeful to see her friend again. 

**   
  
**

“So will we.” Monty and Harper said at the same time, then going back to making funny faces at their baby. 

**   
  
**

“When do you start your trip back to Polis?” Wells questioned, nudging her in the ribs softly when side conversations start up between the group. 

**   
  
**

“Around five in the afternoon.” She replied, her mind filling with any good way to say goodbye to this place for the second time. She had no idea how to do it officially, since the first time was so abrupt. Since she actually wanted to stay this time, “I wanna get home before my mom, so I don’t get interrogated before morning.” 

**   
  
**

It makes him chuckle, and he mumbles something under his breath about how he was sure Abby would be more than glad to hear about her god-son. 

**   
  
**

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I tell her about Bellamy.” She wipes the condensation off the round of her plastic cup, knowing her friend was already listening to her. “She gets all giddy when inviting Finn over for dinners, and she was the one to announce our engagement to the press.” 

**   
  
**

“She knew he would give you a good life, that’s all.” Wells argues with a snark in his voice, not liking the man he’s never met. 

**   
  
**

(He’s always been, and always will be for team Bellamy. He was his best friend too.) 

**   
  
**

“But, there’s Bellamy too.” Clarke sighs, confused as to how she feels in her heart about him. It was obvious he loved her, and she wasn’t going to tell him her dilemma until later that day, but it was truly something to think about when she didn’t know if he was still leaving on his road trip or still angrily in love with her. Things were never easy with love, “It’s like my mom forgot how happy he made me.” 

**   
  
**

“It’s not forgetfulness, Clarke.” Wells bit his lip, deciding if it would be worth it to say. “It’s purposeful.” 

**   
  
**

In the bubble of multiple conversations and smiles, Clarke shakes her head at the thought of her mom being such an impactful force on her actions—because, how could that be true?— and takes a long gulp of her sweet tea. 

**   
  
**

She stands, pokes Jordan’s stomach on her way to turn he knob of the radio to play a different song (anything other than 90’s rock and roll) and takes a deep breath to smell the humidity and warm air of another morning. 

**   
  
**

She would live here forever if she could.

**   
  
  
**

Then, suddenly, a white pick-up truck makes a sharp turn on the street in front of Well’s house and parks near Jasper’s car. The screech of tires doesn't go unnoticed from anybody, as everyone stands and looks for the source of noise. 

**   
  
**

“That’s Bellamy’s car.” Octavia points out, after squinting her eyes placing her cup on the ground and standing to walk over to Clarke’s frozen stance. 

**   
  
**

_Oh. No_. 

**   
  
**

She recognized the car too, having ridden in the passenger seat for years but it was the other person who rid in her seat that made her blood run cold. Her palms sweat, her knees buckle as Wells pulls her up and steady. 

**   
  
**

“Is that—“ He whispered in her ears but she cuts him off before he could finish, not believing this was actually happening. 

**   
  
**

“Finn.” She looks down at her hand, and to the engagement ring and ducks her head. “My fiancé, yes. That’s him.” 

**   
  
  
**

Octavia overheard their conversation and she grips the railing as hard as she could, ready to pounce into action if Bellamy makes a fool out of himself or makes a scene in front of everyone. 

**   
  
  
**

Bellamy gets out of his car first, not bothering to open the door for Finn or get his belongings. 

**   
  
**

The only thing on his mind was walking straight to his friends, and stopping in front of the steps. Clarke carefully walked in his directions with Wells behind her. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy’s jaw is locked, teeth gritted as he tugs on the ends of his T-shirt to adjust his clothes. “I found him knocking outside my door, when I got back from work this morning.” 

**   
  
**

_Work_? When does he work? And why did he never tell her...how many more things was he hiding? 

**   
  
**

Clarke held her hand out, keeping her calm composure as her gaze switched from Bellamy, to Finn, then back to the man with curly hair in front of her. 

**   
  
**

“He said he was looking for Clarke Griffin, and of course, I know who that is.” Bellamy scoffed. 

**   
  
**

“Bellamy—“ she tried to raise her voice without making Finn alarmed to look in her direction as he grabbed his carry on from the back of Bellamy’s truck. 

**   
  
**

“Big brother, don’t do anything stupid.” It was Octavia. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy points his finger at Clarke, veins popping in his neck. “Is this what you wanted all along? To make me wish you could stay and then have your fiancé—which by the way, has no actual knowledge of the girl he’s marrying—come here and rub it in my face?” 

**   
  
**

“No, god, Bellamy. _No_.” Clarke told him in a stern voice and trembling lips. 

**   
  
**

“Well, he’s here for you.” He has a hand on his hip, voice rough with emotion that only Clarke could depict. “And I guess that means whatever we have is over officially, the false hope you gave me, all of it.” 

**   
  
  
**

When Finn walks over to them, it’s a silent recollection of thoughts that make things awkward. 

**   
  
**

“Clarke has spoken a lot about you, so it’s nice to meet you.” Bellamy was never good at being sarcastic. He was a man of truth, as he begins to walk backwards towards his truck and leave just as fast as he arrived. 

**   
  
**

Clarke stood with her mouth open in shock, feeling a tear slip past her eyes and down her cheeks. 

**   
  
**

“Who is that guy?” Finn asks her with a bright smile, as he walks up the steps with open arms as he spins Clarke around in a circle. “Are you guys close?” 

**   
  
**

He was brave, for doing this public display of affection in front of people he didn’t know. 

**   
  
**

“Finn, I—“ 

**   
  
**

Bellamy doesn’t go far, “I’m the guy who’s in love with a different version of the girl you’re marrying.” 

**   
  
**

And Clarke shuts her mouth this time, not knowing what to say. 

**   
  
**

Finn doesn’t say anything either, as he sets her down and tries to find any indication on Clarke’s sunken expression of lies. 

**   
  
**

“It’s a good thing you’re not marrying that guy then.” His smile doesn’t alter when he leans in to kiss her, a sigh passing his lips. He doesn’t even look phased by Bellamy’s words, and Clarke didn’t want to crush his confidence in their relationship. 

**   
  
**

She missed him. 

**   
  
**

But, he missed her _more_. 

**   
  
**

It was bound to be exposed at some point, the time in her life where both versions of herself—the young and new—meet and could either explode in her face or give her what she’s wanted all along. 

**   
  
**

Acceptance. 

**   
  
**

“He’s my husband, Finn.” His eyes widen, and she’s afraid they’ll bulge out of his sockets. “He’s my ex, that I haven’t seen in six years.” 

**   
  
**

She was just happy that he didn’t mess things up by doing anything stupid or outrageous— 

**   
  
**

“A-Are you joking?” He said, stumbling back. “Your mother is on the next flight here, I told her we were getting married here for your own benefit.” 

He did _what_? 

**   
  
**

What did he do? 

**   
  
**

Clarke panicked, “I thought we planned for December.” 

**   
  
  
**

When she hears the door of Bellamy’s truck slam shut, and when he drives away down the road—that’s when Finn speaks again. 

“I didn’t want to wait anymore, and we love each other, so why not?” He kisses her quickly, just a peck of his lips that make Octavia tug Jasper’s arm inside Well’s house along with the rest of their friends who left them alone a few minutes ago. “That guy is just an ex, right?” 

**   
  
**

Clarke couldn’t agree, or disagree, so she just nods and kisses him again. 

**   
  
**

(They don’t feel the same. The spark is gone between them, and Clarke doesn’t know what to say.) 

**   
  
**

Her mother was coming, and Hell was about to break loose. 

**   
  
**

And that was if her heart didn’t break apart from careful woven strings that held her feelings for Bellamy. If she couldn’t defy her mother’s wishes, how could she watch herself get married to another man. 

**   
  
**

Then, it hits her. 

**   
  
**

She was divorced now, as she thinks of the signed papers that Bellamy gave her the other day. 

**   
  
**

Bellamy made his choice. 

**   
  
**

Now, it was time for her to make her own. 

**   
  
  
**


	8. I Wanna Go Back To The Time When I Had You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s taken,” Raven whispered back, and just prayed to someone high above in the pretty blue sky that Clarke could figure things out before her wedding. Because, it was almost too obvious that their relationship had been rocky and strained between Clarke and this guy she just met, Bellamy. Words unspoken. Clarke looked guilty with how things ended, and Bellamy didn't look much better either with his resentment and denial. 
> 
> It seemed like things never finished between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CUE CELEBRATION OF HITTING 40K WORDS* 
> 
> y'all this is such a big milestone for me, and this fic is officially my longest ever! I'm so proud of how far we've come, and I just wanted to thank everyone for still sticking around and enjoying these updates. Happy 2020! This fic is sadly almost over, and I'm emotional. find me on twitter @bobsmcrleys to scream at me to update more often!

> _"Now these nights, they don't feel like they did_
> 
> _When we had young minds_
> 
> _But something tells me you know what it's like, like _
> 
> _I just wanna go back, don't you? _
> 
> _Cause I just miss that, don't you?" _
> 
> **GO BACK ** **— HEDEGAARD FT. HAYLEY WARREN **

* * *

**NOVEMBER 25TH 2001 **

* * *

"Bell," Clarke giggled, as Bellamy's arms wrapped tighter around her waist and peppered her neck with kisses. She was ticklish, fighting his efforts with limited success (she even tried to shove him off the bed, at one point) and sighed. "Baby, please." 

"It's not my fault that you're irrestible, now is it?" He mumbled under his breath, grinning against the underside of her jaw. When he stops trying to attack her with his mouth, she couldn't help but chase his lips and cup the side of his face with her hand. Sometimes, she couldn't resist his charm. 

(_Most_ of the time) 

Before she could lie to herself even more, Bellamy pulls back and smiles so wide that makes the indent of the dimple on his chin prominent. Clarke stares at him, _all_ of him, and takes mental notes of the brightness in his eyes that remind her of those rare sunsets that mix so many different colors into a beautiful sight. She couldn't get enough of the soft caresses of his fingers along the exposed skin on her hip from her shirt bunching up, or his curly hair that sprung in opposite directions because of how much she runs her hands through it. 

Clarke takes a breath, keeping his face close. "And you wonder why my parents tell us to leave the door open, when you're here." 

He reminds her that it was Thanksgiving night, and his family was also in the other room talking to her parents. Wells and Thelonious had left an hour before, claiming that they still had time to make it to Nathan Miller's house-something about how Nathan's mother had gotten the flu before the holidays and couldn't make her infamous chocolate cake that everyone in Arkadia cherished—and they volunteered to help. She loves Miller and his family, and how they're always so generous in giving her seconds of their dinner the next time she comes over, but there was no other place she'd rather be than in Bellamy's arms. 

Bellamy chuckled, letting his head fall against her pillow. Clarke follows his lead, nuzzling into his shoulder and feels warmth bubble inside her chest when he reaches beneath him to grab at her blanket and cover their intertwined bodies. She thinks she's never loved him more than in this moment, when he whispers in her ear and asks if she's warm and tilts her head up so he could have his turn to admire her features. 

"I'm not complaining about _that_," He argued, referring to her last comment. Her brows raise in suspicion, but he was too fast to speak up and explain before she could get a word out. "I just wanna do more for you, and not be afraid of getting caught by your dad."

"You know he loves you, right?" Clarke tells him, cheeks burning with a blush and not so friendly reminders of past situations she's caught herself in with her boyfriend.

"He loves you more," Bellamy said, as a matter of fact over opinion. Then, he catches her off guard while reaching for her hand and interlocking their fingers (her _left_ hand, to be exact) and runs his thumb multiple times across the single diamond on the band around her finger. It was easy for him to find without looking, as his gaze stays intact with Clarke who was at a loss of words to try and explain the sheer happiness that's running through her veins. "Even if sometimes I think he might have a run for the title at some point down the line, cause I can't get enough of you." It makes him smile a little, just trying to imagine a life they would share together. "I love you, Clarke." 

Here he was, the first boy she's ever fallen for. The first boy who kissed her, who showed her the love and appreciation that her mother used to read her fairytales about. His name was Bellamy Blake, and nobody would ever make her feel the way she does inside when he exists in this world. If anyone told her that she was wrong for loving someone so deeply, carefully yet carelessly, at eighteen—she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Because, this felt real. 

It was real, and true, and her happy ending. 

_Her knight in shining armor_. 

Her fiancé. (Bellamy proposed almost two hours ago, and she couldn't stop thinking about how she threw herself into his arms so hard that he fell to the ground with tears forming in their eyes and smiles that only they could see) 

It was unbelievable, to say the least. 

Clarke squeezed his hand tightly, and her smile was so big across her face that he couldn't kiss her properly. "I love you too." 

The only thing she believed that night wholeheartedly, was that she would never stop loving him. He would always be a permanent fixture in her heart, her soul, everything in between. And she would always be apart of _him_, in everything he ever does in his life. 

(Six years pass, and everything turns out to be different. However, the only thing that stayed true—through tried relationships with other people, with her father dying out of nowhere, through Bellamy's attempt at making grief hurt less—was their love for each other.) 

It was something she held onto. 

Something she hoped would never leave. 

(And she was right for doing so, because Bellamy didn't let go either.) 

* * *

Clarke didn’t want to be here. 

  
Her hand was held tightly in Finn’s grasp, as her mother spoke about her meetings with Marcus and how they would soon increase the amount of funding for schools and neighborhood parks. 

  
It made her angry, that she couldn’t even be upset about why her mother showed up. (How could she mad over helping children?) It was all Finn’s doing, and fine—she forgot to call and explain herself beforehand—but she had been in Arkadia for an entire week now, and her mother didn’t blink in worry over her daughter until Finn called her. 

  
She had been taken into her parents old bedroom to be scolded, when Finn had gone to use the bathroom when they first arrived. Her mother wasn’t even that upset over Clarke’s disappearance, especially when she knew that she must’ve finalized the papers with Bellamy and that she agreed to marry Finn with certainty. 

  
Her mood changed once Clarke mentioned that Bellamy did, even if it tears another small piece of her heart, sign the divorce papers. 

  
(She had been smiling the entire time that Finn had watched her mother cook, when she so thoughtfully went to the super market to pick up some food items for a celebration dinner. Clarke was sure she couldn’t smile anymore, her jaw would tighten with every reply and kiss that Finn would shower her with.) 

Her mother was in a better mood, having just put the seasoned chicken into the oven and setting the timer for dinner. She had an open packet of rice that she was waiting to put into the boiling water, and just for a second, while watching her mother peel off her oven mitts and thin hair picked up into a bun—Clarke feels like she’s a little girl all over again. 

  
_Except_, it doesn’t feel like home. 

  
She doesn’t have her dad, or the football game playing on the television in the next room to mute any conversations, or her mother who used to smile genuinely and always look for the other piece of her soul which was her father sitting on the couch with Thelonious and Wells. 

  
She hasn’t spoken to Wells since her mother arrived, since she took Finn and Clarke home from his house in the afternoon. She was dying to call him, to ask how everyone was handling the new invasion of her fiancé. (She didn’t want to dare think about Bellamy, not now.) 

It would’ve ruined the moment of Finn’s lips pecking against her neck, asking if they could go to her room and relax until the food was ready. 

  
She agrees, frozen under his lips for just a second, as if her skin remembers the touch of Bellamy. Finn was rambling about his trip over here, of how he was scared at first yet excited to surprise her and learn where she grew up. 

  
The scary part for her, was the realization that she didn’t know much about him either. 

  
“Tell me about you, first.” She whispered to him, letting her legs tangle with his and her pulled into his chest. He didn’t make her feel warm, so she pulls the covers up to her chin. The bed felt too big for two people, and it made her wonder how—_No_.—she couldn’t think about him. “How was your childhood?” 

  
Finn was more than happy to narrate his entire life story, of how he got into medical school and his graduation, and the first patient he saved from a near death experience with a severed lung from a car crash. (He kept making crazy hand gestures to go along with his story, and she would’ve laughed if she wasn’t cringing on the inside.) If he spoke about his past, then they would connect more. It sounded better in her head as a thought. 

  
When it was her turn, he was slowly falling asleep next to her and she was having a hard time thinking of any memories without Bellamy in her life. 

  
With everything changing so fast, she had wished she could go back in time. 

  
She feels like she can’t breathe with all the damage she’s caused since she came back. 

  
“Take a nap with me?” Finn asks, eyes already closing shut. 

  
Then, Clarke hears the sound of her mother turning on the television and what she hears isn’t necessarily a football game. It was CNN, and the volume was low as if not to disturb the couple in the other room. It was purposeful, Clarke realized, because she had nobody to watch the network with her. 

  
Clarke could relate, since she felt alone too. 

  
Would it make her mother happy if she married Finn? It was all she could think about. 

  
Clarke shook her head at the thoughts that bring her down, as Finn cuddles her closer and she smells his cologne that makes her nose scrunch. 

  
She manages to whisper, “I’m right here.” 

  
Finn doesn’t hear her because he falls asleep soon after. 

  
Maybe, it was better that way. So it gave Clarke the time she needed to figure out the ways of her heart, and return to a life that gave her so much and snatched away some things she would never get back. Was it worth it? She fears that things would never be the same, it was the only reason why she wanted to try with Finn. 

  
If he could fit into her old life, into the girl she used to be, then she shouldn’t be scared about the feelings she has for Bellamy. 

  
She’ll always love him. There was no changing that. 

  
It wasn't until then where Clarke falls asleep thinking of how much she still loves him, and wonders if it’s too late. Her dreams are never kind to her, but she thought of a man with curly black hair and a dimpled smile that made her insides do backflips. She wasn’t surprised when it switched to Finn, a man with shaggy brown hair that makes the burdens of her heart that much easier to carry. 

It made sense. 

  
To dream of her life with two men, and now different they would be. 

  
She needed time. Yet, she was afraid of making a mistake and worried that she didn’t have any time left _before_ she doesn’t have control over what happens next. 

* * *

Bellamy couldn’t look at the empty picture frame anymore. He was already replaying every moment of the afternoon in his head, every time he blinked. 

  
He began, his gaze locked entirely on the frame that stood on the television stand in the living room next to the dining table. “I took the photo out because I was so angry with her,” In the corner of his eye, he could see Octavia and Jasper’s gazes follow his trail of thought. “But, I can’t just forget about that day.” 

He was talking about his wedding day in past tense, like he could never be happy again. He hasn’t even changed clothes from earlier, still in his black jeans and red checkered flannel. Having just come home from work, he was lucky that he hadn’t cut himself from working with machinery all day. 

  
Things were over between him and Clarke. It made him feel weird inside, like he had truly lost her forever. 

  
Which was probably true. 

  
“Because you love her?” 

  
“And I’m wasting my damn time waiting for _something_ to happen,” Bellamy bites his tongue to keep himself from cursing, slamming his beer bottle on the table. His emotions getting the best of him, “I can’t stop thinking about the other guy, you should’ve seen the smug look on his face when I told him that I knew where she was.” It made him wish he didn’t know anything this morning. That he hadn’t talked to his sister, who happened to be right in front of him now, to find out her plans for the day. 

  
“You really wanna know what he doesn’t have, Bell?” Octavia’s voice was soft. 

  
“This house?” He snickered. “He probably has everything else in the world.” 

  
“Let me finish, stupid.” Octavia demanded, leaning over to rest her hand on top of her brother’s. “He doesn’t have Clarke.” She sounded so convincing, so strong that Bellamy waited a few seconds to disagree. 

  
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” 

  
“Bellamy, she’s right—“ 

  
“I know the both of you will always be on my side, and I love you for that.” Bellamy made sure he was clear, assertive. “But he put the ring on her finger, and she said yes, and she didn’t run back to me. Maybe, I just have to move on. _Maybe_, I should just call Gina—“ 

  
“You don’t love her, not like Clarke.”

  
Octavia’s voice lowered, filling with emotion she couldn’t hold back anymore. 

  
“It’s selfish of me I know,” Bellamy’s voice cracked, and he leans forward and rubs his face roughly with his hands. He was so close to his breaking point, so close over the edge of fighting his every instinct. And he didn’t want to use Gina, when she was so sweet to him. “And I could never love Gina, not like Clarke. I just—_really_ don’t know what to do.” 

  
His vision is blurry to recognize Jasper walking up to his crouched form to rub a hand down his back for comfort. 

  
“Fight for her, big brother.” Octavia smiled with a single tear running down her cheek. “She doesn’t love him.” 

  
“What if she does?” 

  
“She doesn’t want him.” Jasper argued. “That girl is crazy about you.” 

  
“That girl we’re talking about also isn’t stupid,” Bellamy held back with tears and stared directly at the table with a blank face. He had no idea what to think anymore, if he should spend any more in Arkadia if he would see Clarke again with another man. 

  
“What are you saying?” 

  
“She’ll be with her mother, and I’m sure they’ve both changed after Jake’s death.” 

  
“You’re losing me here, Blake.” Jasper added on, confused. 

  
“Her mother would want Finn,” He cleared his throat after forcing the words out of his mouth. He thinks of a simpler time when they were together and happy, “to marry Clarke so she’s set for a life I can’t give her.” 

  
“What about your business? It’s getting successful right?” Octavia questioned, and Bellamy takes some time to think about what to say next when she continued. “I don’t understand that part, about why she doesn’t want you to be with her,” His sister’s brows raised, squeezing his hand. “Abby used to love you.” 

  
She wasn’t lying about either of those things. 

  
“She lost the man she loved, the man she thought she would be with forever.” Bellamy replied in a sharp tone, making his argument sound more aggressive than he intended. He didn’t want to think of Jake this way, but Abby did change without him. “She had to move on.” 

  
“It shouldn’t mean that Clarke changed too, not so she could blatantly rub her relationship in your face.” 

  
Bellamy remembers what he said to her earlier, how angry he had been. 

  
“It wasn’t her fault, she probably didn’t know.” 

  
“Is that what you’re betting on?” 

  
Jasper, always the one to play devil’s advocate. 

  
Bellamy nods. It was the only way he’d be able to leave Arkadia. If she chose him, he would stay. If she didn’t, he would leave without looking back. 

* * *

Finn was too quiet when Clarke walked into the kitchen the next morning, her stomach growling not only for breakfast but with bubbling nerves. 

  
She knew something was wrong when Finn couldn’t contain his excitement over something and needed to get something off his chest, and her mother was still asleep in her bedroom down the hallway so naturally, Clarke lacked support in whatever Finn was about to do. 

  
He sat down at one of the kitchen stools, glancing down at his phone with a lip-biting smile that made her walk slowly over to him with cautious steps. 

  
She didn’t know what he was planning, because there was barely anything to do around here that would interest him (unless he had hobbies that included skipping rocks on the lake that she didn’t know about) and she decided to just talk to him as if nothing was happening. 

  
She stands on the opposite end of the kitchen counter, the aroma from his coffee cup filling her senses and leans towards him. “Good morning, babe.” 

  
(Clarke didn’t want to say it, but she felt wrong calling him that nickname now.) 

  
Finn smiles bright, like it’s all he ever does is smile and be happy. He replied, “Morning,” and kisses her cheek. 

  
“What are you doing?” She asks innocently and pulls away, walking to the coffee machine herself trying not to drag her pajama pants on the floor since they were too big on her. Her T-shirt was baggy, the sleeves ending at her elbows instead of her shoulder. In reality, it wasn’t her fault since she didn’t think she would be here for this long. 

  
She didn’t think she would be hung up over Bellamy after hurting him, after hurting herself in the process too. 

  
Clarke hadn’t been to her house since she arrived in Arkadia, but she didn’t have a choice once her mother came. The only clothes she had fit her too big, since she had bought them after she...well….she didn’t want to think about that. 

  
“I was calling some familiar faces,” Finn explained, taking a sip of his coffee. “So they could come for the wedding.” 

  
Clarke doesn’t say anything, popping one of the Keurig original blend coffee cups into the machine and listening carefully to the sound of the motor coming to life. It was the only distraction she had, from the dread filling her gut. 

  
That could only mean _one_ thing. Finn had truly planned the wedding sooner than she anticipated. 

  
There would be no stopping this wedding after hearing the words that come out of Finn’s mouth. 

  
She knows this. 

  
“They should be here any minute,” Finn unlocked his phone, probably looking at his text messages as Clarke stands there. Her ears are ringing, and she keeps looking back at him to see if he was calling her or if she was that paranoid about doing the wrong thing. “Their flight landed like an hour ago, and I told them to come here so you could go shopping and stuff.” 

  
“With _who_, exactly?” Clarke thought she sounded delusional, choosing not to believe who he was talking about. 

  
She doesn’t realize that she didn’t have a cup underneath the dispenser until the first couple drops fall onto the counter, and she quickly grabs a white cup before taking any notice of her shaking hands. 

  
“Clarke, are you okay?” 

  
She doesn’t get a chance to answer, when the doorbell rings and Finn seems to forget about his last question when he stands to get the door before it rings again. Her mother was still asleep, she wanted to say so he could run faster to get the door but she couldn’t say anything. 

  
When he opens the door after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Clarke goes to the fridge to grab the half gallon of milk to pour some into her coffee. She hates that she’s thinking like this, but she wishes that this moment in time wasn’t happening. 

  
That she didn’t hear the sound of suitcases rolling against her wooden floor. 

  
“Clarke Griffin, you really have so much explaining to do,” Raven’s voice brought her out of the trance she was in, and she turns quickly to catch her friend in a tight embrace. The brunette whispers into her ear after giving her a kiss on her cheek, “You're so lucky I packed light, I couldn't even ask you what to wear!” 

It reminded Clarke instantly that it had been a surprise, without her knowing. 

Raven's voice was filled with humor and joy, and Clarke felt a tug at her heart because she was happy to be with her friends again at least. It was happening so fast, that all Clarke could do was smile and hug them back just as hard to make it seem like everything was fine. 

  
Clarke laughed, as best she could when all that came out was a strained sound from the back of her throat. She was trying. Raven looked beautiful at usual, in her ripped jeans and black tank top that was cropped above her belly button. 

  
The sunglasses perched on her head were an extra touch. 

  
She looked over her shoulder, to see Niylah walking towards her after hugging Finn. She had so many questions about how the three of them managed to get free time, but it most likely had something to do with Finn’s request and her mother’s determination mixed together. 

  
Clarke’s eyes widen, and she gave her a look that warned: “_not right now_” because she knew they would talk eventually about how Finn found out. But, they couldn’t ruin the moment. 

  
Finn had thought she would need her friends to help her prepare for the wedding, that she’s sure she hadn’t totally agreed to having yet, and it was a nice gesture. 

  
She_ was_ happy to see them, she knew inside. 

  
Niylah stood next to Raven, looking more comfortable with leggings and an oversized long sleeve shirt. (Clarke hoped her friend packed better clothes, because it was too hot to be wearing all that) 

  
“Why don’t we go for breakfast?” Finn proposed to the small group, and then his gaze flickered to Clarke. “So Clarke and I could get changed while her mom gets some more sleep?” 

  
“That sounds great.” Raven replied, gesturing between herself and Niylah. “We haven’t eaten since last night.” 

  
Clarke glanced up at the clock above the sink, it was barely past eight in the morning. 

  
Still in shock over seeing her friends from work in front of her, and the realization of being in her pajamas, Clarke nodded in agreement. “I’ll go get changed, then.” 

  
She walks to her bedroom, closing the door behind her so Finn doesn’t follow to give herself some room to digest things. 

Raven and Niylah were here. It was a lot to take in, so don’t blame her. She had a plan in the beginning that was supposed to work, and now everything was falling apart. 

_Correction_. It did fall apart a while ago, and she was dealing with the aftermath. 

* * *

“I saw this place on the drive over here from the airport, and I wanted to look here for Clarke.” Raven leaned in closer, “and it was the closest store that could do this last minute,” Clarke could hear the conversation between Raven and Niylah in front of her, as they walked up the ramp to enter, _yet_ another store that afternoon. 

  
It was easy to tune herself out of their constant talking back and forth, her mind was too much of a mess anyways. She didn’t know where her friends were taking her, or how they managed to navigate their way around town without being here as long as she has. 

  
They had already visited a jewelry store, and a local bridal store that must’ve been the last one opened in town because she didn’t recognize the place at all. (Clarke had an encounter with the girlfriend of John Murphy, who used to bother her in high school, helping her pick out a mermaid style dress that looked good on her frame. It was awkward, knowing the face of someone that doesn’t remember you.) 

  
In the times where she wasn’t fiddling nervously with the strap of her purse, or the jean jacket that she threw over her plain white shirt, she would listen to her friends. And it was hard to keep up every once in a while, when they would plan things without consulting her first or ask her a million questions about what she liked and didn’t like. 

  
Now, they ended up walking behind them as they entered—what looked like a carpenter shop with glass displays in the windows, and magnificent pedestals, staircases and other furniture pieces made out of different mahogany colored wood. 

  
She felt drawn to it instantly, realizing how this store would be a breath of fresh air compared to trying on wedding dresses or rings would be. 

  
Niylah held the door open for her, and the three of them walked into the store that had a few customers inside. It was barely past noon, so the rush of business would be slow around this time of day she suspected. 

  
Clarke had to move aside for a couple that couldn’t stop giggling as they walked outside of the store, but the girl looked like she had been wiping away tears with a growing smile. Those were happy tears, she knew the difference. What did they buy in here? 

Raven awed at the tall ceilings, and Niylah wandered off to the back of the store that spanned much longer than either of them had anticipated. The walls were painted white, a nice contrast to the types of wood that were displayed around the store: _Mahogany, Ancient Oak, Black Cherry,_ etc. Each corner of the space displayed different things, like staircase models and laminated photos of impressive fence work and then it suddenly clicked for Clarke. 

  
Why would her friends take to see a carpenter? 

Out of _all_ people. 

She walked to the front of the store, after her quick stroll around the room and her fingers grazed over a glass statue that was made into rose shape, and then to another one that was shaped like a swan. 

  
These were decorative pieces for a party, she realized. Clarke didn’t miss the next ding of the entrance bell, knowing someone had just left the store with a cardboard box with a photo of the statue they chose. Curious, she glanced at the price tag and almost did a double take. 

_Over a hundred dollars_. 

  
They must be authentic, and Clarke grew a sudden appreciation for whoever the owner was. 

  
“Clarke!” Raven called her over to the corner of the store, where a smaller section was reserved for wedding occasions. When she walked over, Clarke’s excitement grew for something she would actually like to look through. The brunette was quick to flip through a binder full of examples of homemade wedding decorations that were made out of a rich mahogany wood that seemed to shine under the sun in the photos. The deep red color stood out under the light, it was beautiful to look at. 

  
“I really like this for the ceremony,” Raven muttered under her breath, biting on her nail as she concentrated while reading through the binder of options. “Especially If Finn likes the whole nature vibe over here.” 

  
She saw photos of pedestals that were painted white or black for the couple to stand on, and Raven expressed her appreciation for a specific example of a wedding altar that was arched over the grinning couple, painted white with pastel flowers wrapped around the wood using vines. She saw others with a square base, or without a top support beam. 

  
It looked as if nature crafted the thing itself, and the sight took Clarke’s breath away because she liked it too. 

She loved each of the designs, and it would be hard to choose between them. 

  
Clarke looked up from the binder, hoping to find someone who worked on the floor. It wasn’t until then, where she heard the noise of an animal’s paws run down the stairs following someone with heavy footsteps. 

  
She scans the area quickly for a sign of where the noise was coming from, and she notices a hidden staircase to her left that was hidden behind the cash registers. Which was a surprise, because she truly had been so caught up in everything about this place._ Please, don’t let it be him_. A part of her hoped it was someone else with a dog, someone that wasn't Bellamy because he seemed to pop up in the right places at the wrong time. Another part of her wanted to apologize for everything. She pleaded internally, even if she found herself watching the person jog down the stairs who was focused on getting back to work. 

She sees him before he notices she’s there, and suddenly, the back of her throat burns with unexpected tears and words she couldn’t say. There was a company name printed on the front of the shirt, _“Blake’s Carpentry”_

  
She would much rather get swallowed by quick sand, than having to confront— 

  
“Hello ladies,” His voice interrupts her thoughts, and Clarke hadn’t seen Bellamy this joyous in ages, with Picasso hot on his trail as he reaches the last step and makes his way over. It doesn’t take long before she realizes why he hadn’t noticed her yet, because Raven was standing next to her and covering her frame. “Is there anything I could help you with? I don’t mind helping you guys plan for—“ 

He stops, words caught in his throat like a deer in headlights, and that was the moment when he sees her for the first time since yesterday morning. 

When he told her that everything he wanted was nothing she could give him anymore. 

  
Clarke just stood there. Niylah takes notice of how her friend’s hands clutch tightly to the counter display next to her, and she doesn’t know how to help her relax or calm down. 

  
His hands are stuck deep in his jean pockets, paint splotches of purple and yellow on his shirt and a smile brighter than the color stuck to his chest. Even when she looks at him with despair, he keeps the forced greeting on his face. 

  
“Hey, Bellamy—“ Clarke whispered, looking up at his face in a daze. Perhaps; she was just desperate for an intimate conversation that couldn’t happen. Not anymore. She couldn’t say anything more because she didn’t know what to do. She could only say hello. 

  
Bellamy’s shoulder’s lose their tension immediately and it was like he was caving into the sound of her voice, a sign of vulnerability showing through to her friends. Then, he changes and turns stiff again. He doesn’t look at her, grabbing the binder from Raven’s hands carefully. “As I was saying, is there anything I could help you with?” 

  
He ignores her, his jaw visibly locking under her stare. 

  
Raven stepped back, letting Niylah answer for them when Clarke steps to the side and excluded herself from the conversation. It wasn’t long until she walks away entirely. 

  
When Niylah finishes telling the guy what she wants for the altar, he was hesitant in answering her questions of which design would look better with a backdrop or nothing at all—and eventually answering honestly when he looks at a particular design, and says it’s his favorite—although he didn’t speak much of what he liked. 

  
Like he was afraid of telling the truth of what he’d prefer if it was his own wedding, that he offered to plan. 

After a few minutes, Niylah leaned closer to Raven and whispered lowly into her ear with a wish that he doesn’t hear what she had to say. 

  
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” 

It was like someone had hit Raven with a truck. 

  
She looks at him sideways, thinking back to how Clarke tried to talk to him earlier and how she got shut down. 

Raven _understands_ everything. 

_This_ was Bellamy. The reason why her closest friend came back to Arkadia, to divorce him. 

  
She just couldn’t understand why Clarke was so sad over him though, he seemed to move on just fine. 

  
“He’s taken,” Raven whispered back, and just prayed to someone high above in the pretty blue sky that Clarke could figure things out before her wedding. Because, it was almost too obvious that their relationship had been rocky and strained between Clarke and this guy she just met, Bellamy. Words unspoken. Clarke looked guilty with how things ended, and Bellamy didn't look much better either with his resentment and denial. 

  
It seemed like things _never_ finished between them.


	9. Don't Give Up On Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, Bellamy.” Octavia shook her head, not knowing what else to do. She was going to watch him leave. 
> 
> “You didn’t do anything wrong,” He admitted, shutting his trunk with more force than necessary. “I just didn’t do something right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we finally are, the beginning of the end. 
> 
> I just wanted to thank everyone and anyone who's been just as interested in this fic of mine since the first chapter, or even yesterday. It means the whole world to me, and I'm filled with absolute pride that I worked so hard to finish this body of work. 
> 
> This second to last chapter is dedicated to the original characters in the movie, Jake and Melanie who fed my hopeless romantic heart with so much love and hope for two people to find their soulmate. This chapter is also dedicated to my friends (Joanna, Sarah and Myriah, just to name a few) who have kept me going since day one. 
> 
> (don't hate me for the cliffhanger!)

> _ "Can we go back to when we were young _
> 
> _ And didn't care if we messed up? _
> 
> _ We have forever so we got lost in each other _
> 
> _ 'Cause time wasn't catching, time wasn't catching us" _
> 
> **WHEN WE WERE YOUNG** **\- _LOST KINGS FT. NORMA JEAN MARTINE_**

* * *

The next few days were a blur. 

**  
  
**

The wedding was scheduled for this Saturday in the Garden Of Eden—the only park that Well’s neighborhood had that was available for wedding ceremonies—and Clarke was counting down the days in the back of her head. 

**  
  
**

It was a habit, to distract herself from the man she was going to marry. 

**  
  
**

She was still thinking of the disappointment that flashed on Well’s face, when she showed up to his door yesterday morning to offer him an invitation to the wedding. It was just a simple postcard, her mother having no time to put real effort into the material. 

**  
  
**

Clarke knew he wasn’t happy with Finn, who was stringing her along to every event that he wanted planned and her opinion on things. Both of them knew deep down that Clarke still thought about Bellamy. That she still cared more than she would like to admit. 

**  
  
**

It was why she asked him where Bellamy might’ve been, and Well’s honest answer when he said that he didn’t know what he was doing. 

**  
  
**

Clarke wished things were different, so she wouldn’t have to hand over an invitation to her best friend for her wedding and neither of them know if it was the right thing to do. 

**  
  
**

She was afraid to go to see Octavia and Jasper, but Finn insisted that she invite all of her friends so they could meet officially. It was an awkward time, especially over dinner and when her mom had so many questions for Finn about the honeymoon. 

**  
  
**

Clarke just sat there, forcing emotions that didn’t feel like they were genuine. 

**  
  
**

(That’s when she asked Wells to talk to Jasper about the invitation, because she was sure that Octavia spoke to her brother often.) 

**  
  
**

She didn’t want Bellamy to know, not if he didn’t want to even talk to her. It was slowly killing her inside, being ignored by him. 

**  
  
**

It was the day of her wedding, when her mother sat her down and helped her get dressed for the ceremony. Clarke ended up going with a single chain diamond necklace, one that her mother had in her old jewelry box, to accompany her simple design of a dress. 

**  
  
**

There wasn’t much to choose from in Arkadia stores, and she was perfectly fine with that. She didn’t want to put more effort into her second wedding, when she was still thinking about her first. 

**  
  
**

Her mother was re-arranging the delicate mesh pieces to her veil, that would hang over the front of her face to cover her eyes. The material wasn’t solid, but a thin material that made it much easier to see through. It was detailed with small rhinestones that sparkles in the reflection of the sunlight against her bedroom window. 

**  
  
**

Her white two-inch heels were sitting in her lap, waiting till after her mother helped with setting the veil on top of Clarke’s head. 

**  
  
**

“You look beautiful,” Her mother complimented softly, a look of awe in her eyes when she raised the veil above her daughter’s head. “Your friend Niylah did a good job with the makeup.” 

**  
  
**

It was nothing special, only a natural look that was made up of dark eye-shadow and the limited supplies that Clarke brought with her from her stash in Polis. 

**  
  
**

“Thanks,” Clarke replied, holding her breath once the veil was clipped into her curled hair. She had Raven to thank for curling her hair too, and she was thankful for the effort. She felt beautiful, despite the conflict in her head. 

**  
  
**

When her mother hands her a mirror to admire herself, Clarke couldn’t hold back anymore. 

**  
  
**

She looked different. 

**  
  
**

She felt different. Like, she wasn’t meant to— 

**  
  
**

“How did you know that Dad was the perfect guy for you?” Clarke asked, shaking her head to get rid of her previous thought. 

**  
  
**

Abby sighed, thinking of her past. Her voice was soft spoken, remembering the good and the bad about her relationship. “It was hard at times, since we were both hard headed.” She said, “But I would still come back to him after we fought, because I loved him.” She looked down to the floor, not able to look her daughter in the eyes and continue. “And love is _ crazy _ like that, Clarke. There could be one moment when you hate the guy, want absolutely nothing to do with him over some petty argument or something that could change your life, and you think you don’t love them anymore. Because how could you? Then, you take time to realize that being in love, _ means _ that you’ll welcome back into your bed. Into your arms because you may not like them for one thing, or one mistake, but you love them for _ another _.” 

**  
  
  
**

Clarke shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She knows that feeling too well, especially when she first came back home to Bellamy who was fuming and so angry with her. Who wanted nothing to do with her. Yet, he admitted to her face right in front of her fiancé that he loved her? 

**  
  
**

She thought of how she acted towards him all these years. How she hated him for not being reasonable over Finn, of how stubborn he was in delaying the divorce, and how she still wished to be held in his arms at night. 

It was a thought that never went away. 

**  
  
**

And there was Finn, who knew her well enough to know when she was upset. Who knew when she needed someone to lean on, and Clarke knew for certain that, Finn was starting to feel like a person she wanted to replace the burden of her troubles onto. She was exhausted with grief in the beginning, feeling more guilty that she couldn’t confide in Bellamy because she knew he was grieving just as much as she was and wanted to be lied to. She wanted to be told that her father could come back, that she wouldn’t miss him every day for the rest of her life. 

**  
  
**

Six years later, it felt like her soul yearned for the man she left behind. It was a mistake, is what she really wanted to tell her mother, that Clarke leaving Bellamy behind was the worst thing she could’ve done after her father died. 

**  
  
**

And it _ was _. 

**  
  
**

“Mom, what if I don’t—“ She began, hesitating. 

**  
  
**

Her mother looked up with tears in her eyes and said, “Your father would be proud that you’re happy with Finn, I know that for certain.” 

**  
  
**

She wouldn’t be lying if her father was a sore spot for her, and Clarke _ was _ happy with Finn. 

**  
  
**

She just didn’t know how to tell her mother that she didn’t want to marry him. 

**  
  
**

Clarke felt stuck. She felt like everything had gone wrong, and the man she wants to be with hates her to pieces. So, she stays in her seat and lets her mother prepare her for the wedding. 

* * *

“Mom wouldn’t want you to go,” Octavia kicked a few pebbles at her feet, standing in Bellamy’s driveway as he began throwing bags in the back of his truck. She knew it was for work, but he saw more duffel bags that didn’t look like they were just tools. “Not without saying goodbye.” 

**  
  
**

In reality, she wanted to strangle her brother with her hands but her purple knee length dress was freshly washed and too pretty to get ruined. The weather was unpredictable today, with wandering grey clouds and intervals of bright sunlight. A part of her wishes that the weather was nice for the wedding between Finn and Clarke, because Clarke deserved to have a good day if she followed her heart in the end. 

**  
  
**

Bellamy didn’t look as put together, having dressed in an old pair of denim jeans with multiple paint splotches, and a black t-shirt covered by a leather jacket to make up for the decrease in temperature. (At least, he wasn’t wearing another flannel. Octavia was getting sick of those things.) 

**  
  
**

He wouldn’t look at her, too focused on getting the truck ready to leave. 

**  
  
**

“It’s not for long,” Bellamy said bitterly, throwing another bag into the truck. “The trip is only for a few days.” 

**  
  
**

“Are you leaving because Clarke is getting married?” 

**  
  
**

“I have a job to do, Octavia.” He would never call her by her full name unless it was serious, or he didn’t want to explain further. “And even if I was leaving to avoid that, don’t you think I have a right to?” 

**  
  
**

Octavia surrendered her hands, she didn’t come here to fight with someone that means the world to her. Someone she would do anything for, even if he was a total headache to deal with when he got defensive. 

**  
  
**

“I wouldn’t expect you to be at the ceremony, because I know how you feel about her, and I’m not gonna torture you either,” Octavia clarified, a little snark in her tone. She watched as he still wouldn’t pay attention to her, and she grabbed his arm and pulled him back so he would stop ignoring his problems and face them. “But, I do expect you to do something about how you feel.” 

**  
  
**

“About _ what _?” Bellamy asked, pretending like he didn’t hear what his sister had to say. That’s when he stops in his tracks, and stands his ground with one of his hands gripping tightly to the back of his truck. 

**  
  
**

He didn’t want to deal with the feelings he neglected since she last saw him, it was obvious. 

**  
  
**

It was also obvious that he was hiding from reality, from a future that he wanted and dreamed about since he was eighteen. Octavia was only twelve at the time, so she was told that she knew nothing about love. It was the people that told her this that had never met her brother and his girlfriend, who would put the other first over saving the world (if they had to, if they were forced to when it came down to their own sacrifices) and do anything to see the other person happy. 

She was young, but she had a clear example of what love was supposed to be. She couldn’t look to her parents, so she always had Bellamy. 

**  
  
**

Octavia walks closer to him, setting a hand on his shoulder when he refused to glance in her direction. He was tense under her touch, holding every piece of himself together. 

It must’ve been so difficult, she thought. 

**  
  
**

“I have to leave soon, because Jasper’s gonna be here soon to get me.” Octavia said, trying to find his gaze when he sighs deeply. “And I want you to know that it’s justified if you leave your pain behind, but I know Clarke. _ We both do _. And that morning when Finn came, she was talking about coming back home for the holidays and dropping everything to be with you, big brother.” 

**  
  
**

“Do you see her around?” Bellamy asked sharply, shrugging his sister’s hand off his shoulder. “Cause I don’t.” 

**  
  
**

“She loves you, Bellamy!” 

**  
  
**

“And yet, she doesn’t love me _ enough _.” Bellamy raised his voice, hoping she would just understand that he didn’t want to be here when she got married. “I’ve tried, Octavia. I don’t want to move on, I wanted to fight for her before after our conversation—but I’m hurting. I need to occupy my mind with something else, away from this place.” 

**  
  
**

“I’m sorry, Bellamy.” Octavia shook her head, not knowing what else to do. She was going to watch him leave. 

**  
  
**

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He admitted, shutting his trunk with more force than necessary. “I just didn’t do something right.” 

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Clarke let go of Raven’s hand after she walked down the aisle as one of her bridesmaids. It was like her own support system, through her desperation of wondering if she really wanted to go through with this. She walked towards her phone that just rang to see who had called her, since she forgot that she turned the volume down to mute the sound. It couldn’t be worse timing, when her mother had been waiting to walk her down the aisle and she only had a few minutes left. Her friends already left to their seats, and she was sure that Finn had walked up to the altar already. 

**  
  
**

She fixes her mesh veil (it was annoying her now, but she couldn't do much about it) that’s covering her eyes when she notices that Octavia had been the one to try and reach her. Was everything alright? She had seen her in the crowd earlier, so she couldn’t cancel now. 

**  
  
**

Even if she couldn’t bring herself to look at the sister of her ex-husband, her friend since she was ten years old, it was a comfort knowing she was there to offer her support. 

**  
  
**

Clarke knew what she was going to say earlier to her mother. She was going to say that she wasn’t truly happy with Finn anymore, that she couldn’t do this. But, it was too late now. She had to do this in front of everyone and pretend like she hadn’t felt her heart erupt in her chest just thinking about Bellamy. 

**  
  
**

She’s held back her tears for days now. Over everything she put him through, of how she loves him just like the day she met him. 

**  
  
**

“Clarke, honey? Is everything alright?” Her mother asks, fixing the drape of her own dress when she walks towards her daughter. It wasn’t a long stride, since the entrance of the ceremony wasn’t a big space. It was almost like a tent, just big enough to hide Clarke from the rest of the crowd. She was still surprised that her mother was able to fix up the local field grounds for a wedding, when on the weekends it was used for flea markets and farming fruit. 

**  
  
**

“Yeah, mom.” Clarke assured, staring at her phone in confusion when more text notifications start coming through after Octavia’s missed call. “I’m fine.” 

**  
  
**

The text messages were all from Octavia_ . _

**  
  
**

**OCTAVIA [1:09] ** _Please, don’t do this_ ** _. _ **

Clarke was pressed for limited time, and she was minutes away from walking down the aisle to the man she was supposed to marry_ . _

She couldn’t shake the thought of Bellamy’s look of sadness when they last spoke, knowing she had caused it.

** _CLARKE [1:09]_ ** _ I'm about to walk down, I can't talk to you right now_ ** _. _ **

Octavia was quick to respond, and all Clarke was able to do was fend off her mother’s impatience and focus on whatever had to be said_ . _

**  
  
**

**OCTAVIA [1:11] : ** _Bellamy’s leaving Arkadia and he thinks you don’t love him. I know he’s wrong_ **. **

**  
  
**

Clarke’s eyes bulged, she didn’t expect that he’d actually through with his plan. Stumbling back into a chair with the shock of it all, she knew that she couldn’t lie to his sister anymore. 

**CLARKE [1:12] :** _Of course I love him, O. _

**  
  
  
**

It was a given, something that everybody knew. Her mother was looking at her weirdly, a stern look on her face when Clarke tries to hold back her tears. She picked the wrong time to get emotional, but she watched as her daughter worked frantically to text as fast as she could. 

**  
  
**

“Clarke, we don’t have much time.” Her mother reminds her, gesturing her hand to the priest who was currently making his way to the altar. “Can you make it quick?” 

**  
  
**

When Clarke doesn’t get another text from Octavia, she expected that the younger girl didn’t know what to say anymore. 

**  
  
**

What she didn’t expect? 

**  
  
**

For her phone to ring for the second time when Clarke sets the phone down to adjust her dress, wiping away any sudden tears that threaten to fall and ruin her mascara. 

**  
  
**

She doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Listen, O—“ 

**  
  
**

“I know you don’t have much time, and texting was taking too long when I have so much to say to you,” Octavia rushes to get her sentence in order, rambling in Clarke’s ear. “And I wanted you to listen. Because, my brother loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone,” She stressed the fact. “Sometimes I think he loves you more than me, and that’s saying a lot after what we’ve been through.” 

**  
  
**

Clarke sighs with tears in her ears, and her mom is trying to signal for her to hang up the phone when the music begins to play, when her bridal song starts playing through the speakers. 

**  
  
**

Octavia continued, “But, you’re all he wants in life. He just needs you, Clarke.” 

**  
  
**

“He’s leaving, Octavia,” Clarke reminded her with sorrow, trying not to think about how much she still loves him. It was so difficult to admit to herself after so long, and she didn’t know if she had the will to hurt Finn like this. “I don’t have control over him.” 

**  
  
**

Octavia wants to scream at the top of her lungs, because the blonde truly didn’t know anything about her brother over the past six years. 

**  
  
**

Although, Clarke could just imagine the smile on his sister’s face when she spoke about him. About their relationship over time, the time that she missed. 

**  
  
**

“You have control over what you did to get him back,” Octavia argued in a rough voice. “Clarke, I shouldn’t be telling you this but my brother is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met—“ 

**  
  
**

“I really have to go, Octavia. I’m so—“ It broke her heart to cut her friend off, but her mother was beginning to tug at her arm to get her in place to start walking down the aisle. 

**  
  
**

“He went to Polis for two months.” Octavia exclaimed, voice cracking in emotion. “He went there for business, to see if he could get clientele and anyone interested to work for him. He started his _damn_ business over there, Clarke. Just to get you back, so _ please _. He thought he had to make something of himself to deserve you.” There was a desperation in her voice that Clarke felt with every ounce in her body. She couldn’t believe it. Her dress felt like it was getting tighter around her lungs, making it hard to breathe with a confession of that scale. 

**  
  
**

Her answer was simple, knowing she would crumble to the ground if she thought about what she said any longer. “I was the one that didn’t deserve him, Octavia.” 

**  
  
**

It was the last thing she said before she hung up and threw her phone across the room to land above her mother’s purse, her heart broken to pieces and her head clouded with racing thoughts. 

**  
  
**

Bellamy did _ what _? 

* * *

**  
  
**

Clarke didn’t hear the yelling at first. 

**  
  
**

Or the sound of someone racing towards her with her name on their lips, to get her attention. 

**  
  
**

She was too focused on Bellamy, who was the one to wish her well for her second wedding, she couldn’t stop picturing him as the groom all those years ago. The memory coming back again. He wasn’t the man at the alter waiting for her, instead it was Finn who stood proud and squinting to see her under the blinding sun. 

**  
  
**

It was the moment when her mother’s grip tightened on her arm, accompanied with the words of “What in the _ world _ is—“ with surprise laced in her voice. It made Clarke come to a stop in the middle of the aisle, when she’s so close to Finn, and her mother stops their stride to yell at someone behind them. 

**  
  
**

Clarke turns slowly, afraid to see who it was. The music stopped, and she couldn’t believe her ears. 

**  
  
**

“Ms. Griffin!” Her name was called, and Clarke finally realized who it was. The person, rather woman rushing to get her attention was her divorce lawyer named Indra. Running through the entrance of a private ceremony, looking frightened, with her mother’s hired security guards behind her to try and get her to leave without an invitation to the wedding. She spoke in relief, “I finally found you! This town may not be big but I’ve tried for the past two days.” 

**  
  
  
**

“Indra?” Clarke said, and to the guards who were standing behind her lawyer, “I know her so just let the woman stay.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand, the crowd is quiet and waiting in anticipation for the ceremony to continue without interruptions. 

**  
  
**

Her tailored suit was unbuttoned due to the heat and Indra had even tried to look presentable for the wedding that she had just crashed. 

**  
  
**

“Indra, what are you doing here?” Clarke hissed while walking towards the woman at the beginning of the aisle, her fingers turning numb around the bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t want to be reminded of what was already done, of what she couldn’t change. 

**  
  
**

“The papers aren’t signed, I’m afraid.” Indra whispered to her client, and Clarke was more confused than ever. She remembered seeing Bellamy’s signature at the bottom of the page, it was all she needed to hand them in. In her hands, Indra held out the divorce papers that were kept in the same vanilla colored folder that she used to stuff in her purse. 

**  
  
**

“What are you talking about?” Clarke’s brows furrowed together, as her mother inches closer to hear the conversation. With her hand outstretched to keep her mother contained, she couldn’t help but ask. “Didn’t Bellamy sign them already, I know he did.”

**  
  
**

This whole conversation was more painful than she’d like to admit, not wanting to put herself or Bellamy through more harm. 

**  
  
**

What was done was _ done _ already. 

**  
  
**

The crowd must’ve heard what she said because they started to mumble to themselves, oblivious to how Clarke could still hear them talk about another man. She would rather deal with this later, after the ceremony so she didn’t have to throw drama into the mix. 

**  
  
**

(She was close to hitting someone who spoke badly about Bellamy, an older woman beside her that her mother invited. He did nothing wrong.) 

**  
  
**

Finn’s parents were the first ones to alert him that something had gone wrong, and he was quick in walking down the aisle to Clarke’s aid. His arm wraps around her waist, as he peers over her shoulder to glance at the papers. 

**  
  
**

“What’s the problem, here?” He whispered in her ear, trying to calm people down with a smile and an encouraging nod to his friends near the front of the alter. 

**  
  
**

Clarke looks up, mouth open with no words coming out. She felt like she physically couldn’t do anything but hold the papers in her hand, and Indra had only begun explaining things to her. 

**  
  
  
**

Indra looked at her client, frowning. “Clarke, you can’t get officially married without signing the papers.” 

**  
  
**

“What?” Clarke felt sick to her stomach, her eyes widening. She had to do what? She grabbed the papers from Indra, and scanned the file for her name. “I—I _ didn’t _,” She couldn’t say it. 

**  
  
  
**

She saw Bellamy’s signature, perfectly and in bold script. 

**  
  
**

What she didn’t see? 

**  
  
**

Her own name. 

**  
  
**

She didn’t sign the divorce papers. After so long of trying to get Bellamy to sign them, she was the one to delay the process even further. 

**  
  
**

“You have to sign them, if you want to get married again.” Indra said urgently. There was no hesitation in her voice, nothing to make Clarke believe that she could get married to Finn without signing these papers. 

**  
  
**

“A pen?” Clarke croaked, all she could manage with her throat burning with tears. She had to do this, right? “I need a pen, do you have one?” She asked again, and when Indra shook her head, she looked around the area to see that everyone else had started looking for one too. 

**  
  
**

Everything was hitting her too fast. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she _ couldn’t _ do this. 

**  
  
**

Clarke had so many memories running through her brain in that moment, even when she looked at Finn pleading for someone to give her a pen to divorce another man. 

**  
  
**

Another man that she loved. Ultimately, if she would stop lying to herself, the only man she could ever love. 

**  
  
**

She remembers when she forced Bellamy to leave his house in the middle of the night, just to run around in the rain and mud with her. 

**  
  
**

She remembers when she was the one to pick out Picasso, to _ name _ her. 

**  
  
**

She remembers helping Bellamy study for math tests with those stupid flash cards. 

**  
  
**

She couldn’t forget about the night he proposed, with so much love shining in his eyes as he got down on his knee with his mother’s ring in his hands. 

**  
  
**

Or their wedding. She could _ never— _

**  
  
**

“I got one, you could have it.” It was a voice that came from behind Clarke, and she turned quickly to see who it was. It was Octavia, and Wells right beside her with a deep frown on his face. Octavia held out a ballpoint pen, and made her way through her row of people standing to get to Clarke. 

**  
  
  
**

When the two women met in the aisle, Clarke couldn’t control the way her bottom lip started to tremble with nerves. 

**  
  
**

This was the part she feared the most, having to say goodbye to Bellamy. To the life she abandoned and desperately wants back. To the life she forced away, because of her heartache and loss. 

**  
  
**

Octavia doesn’t back down, her eyes narrowed and daunting when she keeps Clarke’s gaze intact. She wouldn’t dare look away. 

**  
  
**

She holds the pen out, “Do the right thing. _ This _ happened for a reason,” She gestured to the papers held in the blonde’s hands, and she had the nerve to smile in front of Finn. It was like she couldn’t believe this happened, as if fate really does exist. 

**  
  
**

Clarke could feel her head nod without controlling the act, and she took the pen from the girl’s hand. 

**  
  
**

Wells even chips into their conversation, his voice sounding like an echo in Clarke’s mind because there was so much going on. She felt like she was under water, drowning and the only man that could save her wasn’t here. 

**  
  
**

He raises his voice, full of encouragement. “He _ hated _ signing those papers, Clarke. Bellamy didn’t want to do that.” She would always appreciate Well’s friendship, and value what he told her. She believed him wholeheartedly. 

**  
  
**

Much to her surprise, Raven speaks up from the front of the altar in her bridesmaid dress. She was smiling too, which confused Clarke because Finn was supposed to be her friend. Not Bellamy. 

**  
  
**

“He made that for you,” Raven admittedly says aloud, pointing to the altar that Finn had just stepped down from. It was painted white, with the brightest flowers of pink and purple strung around the frame with green vines. _Purple was her favorite color_. It was huge, and she felt her heart tug deep in her chest just thinking of him bringing it here. Knowing it was for his ex’s wedding. Raven finished, “Without complaining.” 

**  
  
**

Clarke could feel tears in her eyes, the type of tears that would never stop if she let them fall to ruin her makeup. 

**  
  
**

“Clarke, babe?” Finn questioned, pointing to the way her hand was hovering over the paper above the line where she had to sign her name. 

**  
  
  
**

It was too complicated for him to understand. 

**  
  
  
**

Clarke squeezed the pen grip, the ink smudging the paper in a big dot. She looks up to Indra, who’s holding the folder for her to have something to write on, and then to Finn in a frantic manner. 

**  
  
**

Could she do this? 

**  
  
**

She tries to remember how Finn’s lips felt against her skin, or the way his jokes made her laugh or how she woke up to him the morning after he came to Arkadia—and it didn’t make her feel anything. 

**  
  
**

Clarke pressed harder against the paper, until she heard the soothing voice of her mother. 

**  
  
**

“I thought things were finalized, Clarke?” She was getting closer, and a hand came to rub small circles in her daughter’s shoulder to try and rid her worry. 

**  
  
**

She was wrong. 

**  
  
**

Her mother was _ wrong _. 

**  
  
**

She wasn’t finished with Bellamy. 

**  
  
**

She didn’t want to be done with him. 

**  
**  
“I-I _ can’t _ .” Clarke stuttered, pulling her trembling hand away from the divorce paper and letting Octavia’s pen drop to the floor. She didn’t care about that right now, she just cared about one person. And how she had to fix things with him. 

She couldn't marry Finn.


	10. I'm Coming Home To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where's your umbrella?" It was the first thing that came to mind, and she comes to a halt when Bellamy jumps at the sound of her voice. 
> 
> He was working a piece of flexible glass in his hands, and she only had a small idea as to what he was doing when she remembered the glass statues in his shop, and he turns around fully to look at her. His eyes widen in surprise, hands gripping the glass tightly. She was afraid he would cut himself, but she also figured that he must know what he was doing. 
> 
> To avoid his intense stare for a moment, Clarke glances to the sand beside his feet where two carefully woven dove statues sat. 
> 
> How long had he been here? 
> 
> Bellamy gestured to the downpour with one hand, shaking the rain off. "There's no point in carrying one in a storm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to describe how I'm feeling right now. 
> 
> I've spent the last five months writing this fic, this story and I can't believe it's coming to an end. I just wanted to say a huge HUGE thank you to all of my friends who've supported me throughout this sometimes, stressful process and I'm so so happy to add this fic to my collection of the stories i'm most proud of. I hope you all enjoy the ending, and I'm so sad to see this story end. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read a chapter or kept up since the beginning, I appreciate you all so much. Till my next fic!! Thank you! 
> 
> keep up with me @bobsmcrleys on twitter!

She looked to Indra, who somehow knew this would happen with the smallest of smiles growing on her face. _ Clarke really just did that _. She couldn’t move, feet stuck to the ground just as time seemed to freeze. Finn stood silent, the crowd gasping around her. 

  
  


“Clarke?” Her mother warned, taking the paper away from her daughter’s hands and stepping in front of her to grab her by the shoulders. In her mind, she thinks that Clarke was just confused about things. “He already signed them, it’s okay.” 

  
  


“_No _ , mom.” Clarke sobbed. “Bellamy wasn’t okay with signing those papers, he still loves me.” She paused, making eye contact with a teary eyed Octavia. She had to find her friend in the crowd, knowing she had to let the other girl know and admit this to herself. “And I love him, so _ so _ much. I always will.” 

  
  


She turned around to Finn, who stood in disbelief with his mouth opened in a gasp. Clarke immediately knew he had so many questions, but she told him the one thing he must’ve known all along because the facade of living his perfect day had been the shadow behind him for months. 

“You don’t want to marry me, Finn.” She smiled sadly, her heart feels lighter and more hopeful than ever before. 

  
  


Lifting the veil from her eyes, they lock eyes without any barriers between them to expose the truth about their entire relationship. 

  
  


“Yes I do, Clarke.” Finn’s brows raised, because how could she know that? 

  
  


She knew all along. 

  
  


“You don’t know me,” Clarke shrugs with no remorse. “You don’t know the girl I used to be when I lived here, when I grew up with my friends and my parents. Finn, I care for you, I really do.” She explained, knowing the bigger truth that she had to tell him was more important than any excuse she could give him. “But, the truth is that I gave my heart away a long time ago. My _ whole _ heart,” Clarke said, tears escaping the corner of her eyes because it felt so good to say. “And I never truly got it back.” 

  
  


Finn doesn’t respond. 

  
  


Her mother was also silent beside her, and Clarke knew they would have to talk later about what she did today. But, frankly she didn’t care about that either. She was following her heart, and her heart belonged to Bellamy. 

  
  


The surprises didn’t end there, especially when Finn reaches for Clarke’s hand and brings it up to his lips for a kiss. 

  
  


“It’s okay,” He tells her, and he tries his hardest not to frown. Although, he completely understands how she needs to do this. It’s what made Clarke fall for him, and she would remember this moment forever. “I knew deep down that he meant a lot to you, and I can’t take him away from you.” 

  
  


“Finn, I don’t know what else to say,” Clarke takes a deep breath, her voice shaky as she wipes at her face. She was happy, and she didn’t have to hold back anymore. “Thank you.” 

  
  


“I’ll see you soon,” Finn assured, his lips curling into a small, almost nonexistent smile as he walked backwards to his group of friends. She knew that they would cross paths again, if he does leave Polis Memorial when she gets back to work. 

  
  


Then, a single crack of thunder erupts in the sky through the clouds and everything changed. 

  
  


Clarke looks up at the sky, waiting for the rain to fall so she could cry out in joy without worrying about ruining her makeup. She wants to find Raven and apologize for ruining the curls in her hair, with the sudden humidity and rain but she wanted to think that it didn’t matter anymore. 

  
  
  


Clarke lets herself get pushed around in the aisle as people race around her for shelter from the incoming storm, and she stands on her tip toes to find Octavia and Wells. 

  
  


“Clarke?” Her mother pulls at her hand to make her focus on what she had to say, and neither of them knew where to start. 

  
  


“I’m sorry, mom. I knew you wanted—“ 

  
  


“Forget that,” Abby dismissed the statement, and looked up at her daughter with a smile that she couldn’t hide. “I want you to be happy, that’s all I wanted. I’m the one that needs to apologize for thinking you wanted to be financially stable when we left Arkadia. You didn’t need that.” 

  
  


Clarke nodded in agreement, glad that the both of them could realize their mistakes. They had moved on together, and she needed her mother to guide her. Now, that they were on the same page. She didn't have time to want an explanation, or give one to make up for all the mistakes she's made. 

  
  


“I needed Bellamy back then, mom.” She admits with her hand clutched to her chest, thinking of the pain she’s felt for years. “And I left him without calling, texting, anything to let him know that I still cared. That was something I messed up on, and I need to make things right.” 

  
  


“Go tell him that,” Abby encouraged in a sharp tone, but it sounded more of a demand. 

  
  


It was in that moment when the rain began to pour, which ruined the white drapes over the chairs and soaked the ground beneath her heels more quickly than she knew how to handle. 

  
  


“Can you tell everyone that I’m bringing him back?” Clarke was so hopeful, so excited to bring Bellamy to be with his friends and herself. She would fight for him, no matter how he feels about her now. “I have to find him first.” 

  
  


Her mother tries to cover her face with a hand against her forehead, but it was a lost cause when she had no umbrella or anything to stop herself from getting wet. Clarke didn’t care, she had no use for this dress anymore. 

  
  


Bellamy was the priority. 

  
  


She heard Octavia’s voice in the distance, calling out her name. 

  
  


“He hasn’t left yet!” She said, and when Clarke looked back at her friends—Monty, Raven, Wells and Octavia—she broke down and started to cry. 

  
  


Octavia was the first to run to her, before she could lose her composure. 

  
  


Clarke just knew she had to get him back to her, but she didn’t know where to start. 

  
  


The younger Blake pulled her into a tight hug and closed her eyes shut, “I missed you, so much.” 

  
  


The old Clarke, she meant. The one who finally came back to her senses. 

  
  


“He hasn’t left yet?” Clarke wiped at her face to get rid of the wetness. Could the universe be this generous to her? “He’s still here?” 

  
  


“At the house, packing up his things.” Wells added on, panting to regain his breath from running over to them. “He called me earlier.” 

  
  


“I need—“ Clarke began, not finding the exact words she wanted to say. “I _ need _ to go.” 

  
  


“Go!” Octavia yelled, picking at her hair that stuck to her neck from the rain. The smile wouldn’t leave her face, and Clarke felt the same. 

  
  


“Go get your man, Griffin.” Wells added. 

  
  


Clarke, for the first time since being back home for a week, doubled over and laughed over her best friend. 

  
  


She missed this. She missed being this happy. 

  
  


Then, she remembered what she needed to do and ran towards the entrance of the park. 

  
  


Wells shouted after her, “You need the keys to my car!” 

  
  


Clarke stopped, looking back at him. “Why?” 

  
  


She had a perfectly good car that was parked a block away, and she was slowly wasting time.

  
  


“You don’t have your keys!” Wells pointed out and dug into the back pocket of his black slacks with struggle. They stuck to his skin, the rain coming down hard above them. He threw his keys as far as he could. 

  
  


Oh, right. Clarke mumbled under her breath, forgetting that she didn’t have her purse. 

  
  


Luckily, he didn’t miss Clarke by that much, with the keys landing in the pile of leaves next to her feet. “I’m right outside the park, _ go _!” 

  
  


Clarke didn’t need to be told a third time. 

* * *

The sky had turned dark, like it was five in the afternoon rather than only a quarter past two. 

  
  


It was hard to navigate the roads with the storm but she was lucky that barely anyone else was on their route back to Arkadia, because she felt as if she’d explode if she didn’t find Bellamy before it was too late. Before he left their lives behind, and she’s never wanted anything more than to talk to him. 

To have a real conversation about how they feel about the other, without any boundaries and obstacles to pass. Clarke sped down the street surrounded by stores, knowing she was getting closer to Bellamy’s house. She felt like she was on the verge of getting sick of nerves, biting on her bottom lip the entire drive to pray that he would wait for her. 

  
  


He just _ had _ to know that she loved him. She loved him so much that she married him at eighteen, didn’t feel a bit of worry when they got pregnant afterwards because Bellamy was the one man she’d want to be with. She loved him so much that she was willing to face the consequences of ruining Wells’s car because of how soaking wet she was in his leather seats. 

  
  


Her friend could understand, she had to get there as fast as possible. When she turned the corner of the driveway, she felt her heart drop to the floor. 

  
  


She ducks her head, hoping that it was just dark enough to where his truck was revealed to be hiding from plain sight. 

  
  


Gripping the steering wheel tighter, she hiccups as a result of forcing her sobs from escaping the back of her throat. 

  
  


_ She was too late _. 

  
  


She slowly pulls into his driveway, letting her head fall forward and hit the wheel because she was so tired of everything. She had just ended things with Finn, and she left her phone with her mother from before the ceremony so she had no way of contacting anyone. The sound of rain hitting the windshield wasn’t enough to calm her down, even after her burning tears began to fall down her cheeks. 

  
  


If she had her spare key to the house from all those years ago, she would use it to walk inside and use the house phone to get in contact with Bellamy. Maybe, even meet him halfway on his trip if he was willing to talk? 

  
  


She had no idea what she was going to do. 

  
  


Clarke sniffled, looking up to the closed blinds of the front windows of the house—not expecting to see lights flickering on the other side, a dim yellow shining through the open cracks—and she squints her eyes to try and see better. To decide if it wasn’t an illusion. 

  
  


If Bellamy left the house for good, he wouldn’t have kept the lights on. He wouldn’t need to worry about— 

  
  


_ Picasso _. 

  
  


Clarke shakes her head, trying to think of the times when Bellamy would make sure to keep a few lights on in the house if he knew they’d be gone for a long time, so their puppy wouldn’t get afraid of the dark. 

  
  


She also knew that he wouldn’t leave the dog, if he really meant to leave Arkadia for good. 

  
  


He was close, she had a gut feeling. Clarke sighed in relief as if a lightbulb of her own had gone off in her head. She turns on the headlights to the car again, backing up a few feet with caution to check for any skid marks of Bellamy’s truck. 

  
  


To her left, she spots the deep indents of the skid marks in the mud and rain puddles—and she could feel an instant rush of adrenaline spark in her every move, deciding that it would be better if she drove as far as she could before getting out of the car to run—because she couldn’t hold back anymore. 

  
  


It was too important. 

  
  


Bellamy was _ too _ important to her. 

  
  


Clarke would suffer with wet sand between her toes as she ran towards the beach, a ruined wedding dress, hair sticking up in all directions as she tried to rub her makeup off. 

She barely has time to notice if she turned off the car, because she feels her heart jump just as fast as her body at the sight of Bellamy's truck. 

* * *

Clarke yelped as her heel dug into the sand, and she decided that she had enough. She leans against the bark of a tree, reaching down to slip her shoes off her feet. 

The storm was getting ruthless. She kept wiping the wetness from her face every few seconds, and it was getting more difficult to navigate the trail when the mud and rain mixed together. In the distance, she could see a faint silhouette standing near the water and Clarke refrained from calling out to Bellamy as loud as she could. 

She knew it was him, but the thought of confronting him after _everything_ was scary. She's had more happy memories at this beach, than any other place she visited growing up. This beach, although with it's flaws of being impossible to walk on after a storm and the dangers of being close to the water with lightning, was where her relationship with Bellamy began. 

Even if she hated to admit it, the last time she was here with Bellamy—it was after her father had died, and Clarke remembered looking out past the water with the wind blowing softly in her hair, not having showered in days and how she couldn't sleep. Bellamy was the one holding her close, a comfortable silence between them as he knew she just needed to let her mind wander—was one of the most painful times in her life, and not even the happiness she felt with her husband could lift her up. 

It wasn't long until she left for Polis that summer, leaving everything she's ever known behind. 

Leaving behind the one person who knew her entirely. 

The first time she wandered onto this beach, she was around five years old and Wells was teasing her about being afraid of going into the water. Clarke had picked out her favorite bathing suit, and since her mother loved to sunbathe so much and leave the swimming to Jake, she had wanted to follow her mother's actions. She hadn't learned how to swim at the time, and she was content with sitting from the sidelines and watching Wells and her father get along. She was only scared of getting caught by the waves and being pulled into the water, but it had gotten worse when Wells tugged her by the hand and led her to her father with a fit of laughter as neither of them let go. 

She learned how to swim a year later, so next summer she was prepared to push Wells into the water as payback. That was when her father introduced them to a coin toss game, when he would toss a coin down into the water in front of the kids and give them snorkels to try and find the coin before the waves hit them. 

_However_, the night that Bellamy confessed his feelings for her when they snuck out of their houses was the memory she cherished the most. 

It was another rainy night, and she had just wanted an adventure with the boy she had a crush on. It was the start of a life that she wanted to have since she was a little girl. 

The next ten years had been an adventure of it's own, from finishing high school to getting married and losing her father. Clarke had been through and accomplished so much throughout the last six years, from fulfilling her dreams without the one person who made her feel like she could do that from the very beginning, to realizing that she couldn't be truly happy without Bellamy in her life. 

Bellamy was her dream now, and she was running towards him. 

For a moment, she thinks that he always was. 

* * *

Clarke throws her shoes into the sand, as Bellamy's outline gets clear in her blurred vision and she could see how badly soaked his clothes were stuck to his body. 

The light seeping through the storm clouds didn't do much in masking the ripples in the cloth as it stuck to his skin, and when she gets closer and realizes she was still going unnoticed, how his left arm would reach up and wipe at his face as he leaned over the table he brought with him. 

It made her think of the night where he was afraid that their parents would catch them out, when he was reprimanding Clarke on bringing an umbrella. He said it was ridiculous to be sneaking out, and he wouldn't stop complaining a few days later when he got sick. 

She would've laughed at the sight in front of her now, but she was trying not to cry again. It just reminded her that they weren't kids anymore, and her mistake might be unforgiveable. 

Clarke takes a deep breath, then hopes that her voice doesn't waver when she calls out to him over the sound of the rain. 

"Where's your umbrella?" It was the first thing that came to mind, and she comes to a halt when Bellamy jumps at the sound of her voice. 

He was working a piece of flexible glass in his hands, and she only had a small idea as to what he was doing when she remembered the glass statues in his shop, and he turns around fully to look at her. His eyes widen in surprise, hands gripping the glass tightly. She was afraid he would cut himself, but she also figured that he must know what he was doing. 

To avoid his intense stare for a moment, Clarke glances to the sand beside his feet where two carefully woven dove statues sat. 

How long had he been here? 

Bellamy gestured to the downpour with one hand, shaking the rain off. "There's no point in carrying one in a storm." He turns his back to her, taking a rag and covering the glass bird he had been trying to carve. 

"Do you remember when you told me that I should've taken one when we were kids?" Clarke asked, stepping closer. "It was the night I told you that I liked you, and when I found out that my crush felt the same." She could see his shoulders visibly tense at her interrogation, and she knew that it would be a longshot if he actually wanted to talk about their childhood. When they had it good, when they didn't know what heartache felt like. 

"_Why_?" Bellamy said, "Why bring that up now?" 

She walked to the opposite end of the table, picking her dress up at the hem so it wouldn't drag her steps. In the effort of staying consistent with her motives to explain herself, the wedding dress was slowly becoming an obstacle that began to annoy her. 

"Because I wasn't thinking when I ran outside to your house," There's a flash of lighting that sparks against the sky, and Clarke had to swallow back the lump of tears in her throat before raising her voice. Bellamy's eyes were shut, the memory replaying in his mind whether he liked it or not. It was a shared memory that brought them happiness, neither of them could forget. Clarke reaches to graze his hand that was on the table, but he pulls away as if he could sense her. She cried, "Because I wasn't thinking when I left you, I don't know—" She pauses, when Bellamy steps back and begins to walk in the opposite direction after grabbing his jacket from the edge of the table. "I _don't_ know how to make it better." 

She didn't know how to live with herself if he walked away now. 

"Bellamy, _please_!" 

"Can you just quit whatever you're doing right now, Clarke?" Bellamy yelled, and she cautiously slows her pace to get to him. His voice was shaky, and she knew angry tears were running down his face when he rubs at his eyes instead of his cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to wipe them away herself. "Don't you have a husband to get back to?" 

"I'm looking at him." She said aggressively, because she could _now_ use that card too. 

"I signed those divorce papers already," Bellamy points a finger at her, and begins pacing back and forth in the sand. He was in a daze, so full of emotion as he couldn't escape the thoughts in his head. Or the pain that began to resurface for the both of them, Clarke couldn't tell. She gravitated towards him naturally, dropping the hem of her dress as she stomps her feet to reach him. "We aren't married anymore." 

She was so caught up in the drama of avoiding Bellamy and her friends after he signed them, that she forgot that she had never did her part. 

She really thought he would be the hardest to convince that their love wasn't alive anymore, when it was _her_ who tried to bury it. 

"I didn't sign them, Bell." Clarke sighed loudly, grabbing his wrist to make it stop in front of her when she gets close enough. She feels like she's the one person being struck by lightning in this moment, out of everyone in town, because she missed the _connection_ of touching Bellamy. He would always make her feel alive, like his sweet caresses or minimum contact of grabbing his wrist would transport her to the time before she messed everything up. He froze, as If the confession finally sunk in for him. She continued, eyes filling with tears. "How could I? How could I hurt you again, when I never wanted to do that in the first place."

It was in that moment, when Bellamy struggled on what to reply when his heart was torn open on his sleeve. She didn't know if the act was intentional, but his body seems to relax under the feeling of Clarke's firm grip around his wrist and he tries his hardest to avoid the truth. 

"Can you look at me?" She asks, worried that he wouldn't be able to hear her when she spoke in a low voice with the intimacy of the question. Clarke just wanted to see _him_, she wanted to hear about his life over the past six years, his pain and how he's changed in a blink of an eye. She wanted him to be honest, and she would do the same. "Bell, I just want you to tell me the truth. I want you to be angry with me, or tell me how I fucked up. I just need to know if I have a chance to be loved by you again, so please just be _honest_ about how you feel about me." 

He finds her gaze easily as he adjusts his stance, and she doesn't have control over the gasp that leaves her mouth. 

Clarke doesn't move, stays frozen as Bellamy scans her entire face with his soft expressions and tries not to breathe too deeply from sudden nerves that bubble in her chest at his quiet examination. She wonders what he notices about her, when she takes her own opportunity to listen to the sound of his harsh breathing and lets her eyes explore him too. When she looks up at his face, she takes note of the dark stubble frame his jawline and the hidden dimple mark on his cheeks that would make her heart melt every time he smiled. He had grown out his hair for a while, she assumed, when she finds herself staring at the mop of black curls that fell against his forehead. 

She could only imagine what he thought about how she's changed. She was currently wearing a thrift store wedding dress, with wet strands of hair falling from her sunken bun at the nape of her neck that turned into a ponytail because of the weight of the rain. Her makeup was washed off, her shoes were somewhere thrown at the entrance of the beach and she dreaded the thought of a shower later. 

Clarke inhales sharply, feeling like she can't breathe when she manages to croak out a few words to distract him from getting lost in her. Pulling her hand away slowly, "Did you really want to sign the papers when Wells stole them from my bag?" 

"I never stopped loving you," Bellamy admits painfully, wincing at the thought. "I was willing to let you go, and there's a difference." 

"You didn't tell me that you came to Polis," Clarke tilted her head wanting an answer, thinking back to when she thought that he didn't care or was too upset with her to give her a call or when she was too hesitant to bother him if he tried living as if she didn't exist. "Octavia shouldn't of been the one to tell me, Bell." 

"What was I supposed to do?" Bellamy shrugged, frustrated with his secret being exposed to the one girl he was trying to keep it from. Tension rose between them again, a complete turn around from the butterflies in Clarke's stomach from his admiration—and he stepped away, throwing his jacket into the sand. The rain made it too easy to yell and raise his voice, "Did you want me to bring you back home when you were grieving your father and take you away from your mother? Did you want me to stay unemployed before or _after_ you decided to come back?" 

"You had the job at your mother's bar, _don't—_" Clarke warned, before getting cut off. 

She was surprised at his outburst, but she expected their issues to hash out at some point when they needed to heal. 

Bellamy shook his head in disbelief, "Did you really think that would keep us stable after this long? I _needed_ to prove to myself that I would be the best partner I could be when you got back, so that you could _stay_." He starts to pace again, mumbling under his breath. "I loved you so much that I let you go, even when Wells told me that some guy at the hospital you had gotten close with had some interest in you, and I hated every bit of these past six years without you." 

"Wells told you about my relationship?" 

"I just had to know how you were doing," Bellamy admitted. "I didn't want you to hurt anymore over your dad, I wanted you to be happy." He doesn't shy away when Clarke walks over in slow strides, wiping under her eyes where tears had just fallen. As a matter of fact, he stops his pacing all together and asks her a question that he hoped would have a different answer the second time around. "Did he make you happy?" 

"I tried to convince myself that he did," Clarke told him, a small smile growing on her lips. "But you made me the happiest girl ever." 

Bellamy deflated, grabbing Clarke by the waist and pulling her to his chest. He kept one of his feet tucked behind her heel, so she wouldn't lose her balance as she stumbled into his arms. He's only ever wished that Clarke would come back to him, when she realized what she did was wrong. It didn't mean that she would ever do it, and as time went on, he didn't think she _ever_ would. He carefully brushed his thumbs under her eyes, catching every tear that falls because that's who he was to her--a life support, a safe haven, her heart that kept her alive. 

He leans forward, letting their foreheads touch as he breathes her in. 

"Don't leave me again," Bellamy lets himself be vulnerable, choosing to be entirely honest like she asked. Nobody was in his way now, he has his girl back in his arms and the impossible felt absolutely possible as long as they were together. "I love you, Clarke. More than anything, _anyone_. If you leave, I'm going with you next time." 

Clarke sobs, and holds onto his wrists to keep her grounded when she felt like she was floating out of pure joy. 

"I would never, ever do that again." She promised, and they both believed she was telling the truth. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you, that I ruined our relationship the first time." 

Bellamy assured her, "Neither of us could take back the time we lost, and I'm tired of being angry, sad or miserable," He presses his lips against her forehead, then her cheek, and his exhale was so faint that she thought he was afraid she would disappear if he tried to do anything more. "I told you I could never hate you for the mistakes we both made, and that's because the past is something we can't control. And to answer your question from before," His breath was shaky against her mouth, as their lips grazed together. "I've loved you since I was nine years old, and even _now_, nothing could change that." 

“I love you, Bellamy.” She says softly, letting their tears mix in with the rain. When their lips meet in a kiss that has been six years in the making, Bellamy's hand cradles the back of her neck to keep her close as he keeps his pecks sweet and outdrawn. Clarke doesn't mind, especially when the rain continues to mask her tears and she just wanted to savor the taste of his lips gliding against her own for the rest of her life. When they struggle to catch their breath, they only take a few seconds in between to do so before diving back in for more—and Clarke only wished that the sand hadn't turned to mud so Bellamy would be more comfortable in sliding his hand down her leg to pick up and wrap around his hip so he could multi-task, but the weather didn't rejoice in their reunion at all. 

(It was only when Nathan Miller showed up, yelling at the couple from across the beach wondering when they were going to come to the reception party to meet with everyone else. They laughed about it, because Bellamy had her leaning against the table with one of her legs wrapped around his waist, and his shirt hem bunched up in her hand with her neck itching from his stubble grazing against her skin. 

She finally had Bellamy back, and she couldn't be happier.) 

* * *

**DECEMBER 20th 2009 **

* * *

"Come on, Clarke!" Bellamy said in a hurry, packing up the last of Picasso's dog food into a travel container and shoving it in the first open suitcase he saw in the living room. He had been helping Clarke pack her clothes that morning, because of course, she saves the packing for last even when she promised Octavia they would be back in Arkadia before Christmas. 

They would be staying at their old house until the new year, and they unfortunately brought most of their belongings to their apartment in Polis after deciding it would be best for the both of them financially—with Clarke finishing her residency for the year and Bellamy thought it would be best to stay in contact with his frequent customers for his shop—so it ended up being a good fit for the time being. 

"I need more bags, Bell." Clarke called out from their bedroom, and he initially didn't much of her request as he rubbed Picasso's ears as she jumped on the sofa and he couldn't help himself. It had been difficult lately, to watch as she cuddled closer to Clarke in the middle of the night or wagged her tail whenever Clarke walked into the apartment. 

Although, he knew he couldn't get jealous because she was just being protective over Clarke's growing belly. 

Bellamy made his way to their bedroom at the end of the hallway, and rushed to his wife's aid as she stood on her tip toes to try and reach a tote bag that sat on the top shelf of their closet. 

"How many times do I have to tell you that you could fall doing that, baby?" He reprimanded her softly, reaching the bag and grabbing it with ease. 

"Well,_ this_ baby," She points to her stomach, and Bellamy could feel his heart stutter at the sight of her acknowledging their seventh month old child. It would always excite him, the thought of Clarke being pregnant with their child. "Isn't stopping me from doing anything that you can." 

She sounded so confident, that he couldn't keep himself from grinning. 

"Why do you need more bags?" Bellamy asked, handing her the tote she asked for. It was a knitted bag that her mother bought for her a few months away for her birthday, adorned with white and purple flowers (Clarke didn't want to me _that_ type of mother who associated her daughter only with the color pink, and he agreed wholeheartedly) and she had cherished it deeply. She only sees her mother a few times a week, and their time is limited with work shifts and dependent on how Clarke feels physically throughout the day. She hasn't worked since she passed her third trimester, and Bellamy was ecstatic to see her more often when he got home from busy days. He reminded her, "We have two suitcases packed, Clarke." 

She wraps her cardigan tighter above her belly, and raises her brows. "Have you met our friends? Wells and Octavia have been bashing me for what I need for the nursery, and Harper has been trying to find time to come here to take me to baby classes to practice with Jordan." She paused. "I'm expecting to come back home with a ton of gifts for the baby that we won't know what to do with." 

Bellamy takes her hand and squeezes, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead. "Are you gonna tell her that baby classes are _our_ thing?" 

"She's the one with a baby already," Clarke explained, giggling. "I should take any help I could get." 

Bellamy tilted her head up to lock gazes, and he didn't know if it was the reflection of sunlight that illuminated the room around him but he swore that he had the most beautiful blue eyes looking back at him in admiration and love. 

He knows he tells her this probably a million times everyday, but he couldn't stop himself. 

"I love you," Bellamy smiled, his other hand rubs against the curve of her belly. He thinks of the other baby they could've had when they were eighteen, and somehow there's a feeling of preparedness that he didn't feel the first time. "And we're gonna do this together for the rest of our lives."

He would forever wonder about the opportunities, the relationship they could've had if they hadn't been separated for six years but it didn't stop him from embracing their futures now. 

They were separated for a reason, he believed. 

To prove to the other that their love was forever, that they would always find their way back home. 

"With little Madi right by our side," Clarke finished for him, and with those words said, neither of them could hold back tears over their dreams of a family coming true after so long. 

It was true in the end, what Clarke had known all along. 

She found her soulmate at thirteen, and Bellamy had always been her _home_.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy’s hands are much bigger than his baby’s small ones, so when he uses his pointer finger to rub against her clenched fist, Madi unconsciously reaches for her father’s touch and opens her fist so she could wrap her hand around his finger.
> 
> “I’m so lucky that your mother isn’t awake to see me cry like this,” He tried to tease, to distract himself from the tear running down his cheek because he couldn’t wipe it. It was hard to believe, reality not having sunk in yet. Clarke was a mother. He was a father. He told himself a long time ago, after losing his first child with Clarke the summer after high school, that he would do anything to protect his child. He would do anything to see her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! it's been three months since I finished this fic, and I've missed it so much. Thank you to everyone who's spent time reading, re-reading or even checking it out after the final chapter was posted. I'm so proud of this story and I hope you guys smile because of the fluff, we all need it! Enjoy!

> _“_ _I’ll never give you away cause I’ve already made that mistake. If my name never fell off your lips again, I know it’d be such a shame. When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing I think I got right. I’ll never give you away, cause I’ve already made that mistake.” _
> 
> ** _LOVER OF MINE — _ 5 Seconds Of Summer **
> 
> * * *

The night that Madi Griffin-Blake was born, her father was extremely hesitant in letting his baby sleep in the hospital crib. He was perfectly content in sleeping in a lounge chair next to Clarke’s sleeping form on the bed, shirt off as he felt the smooth skin of his child against his chest.

As long as Madi was okay and sleeping soundly wrapped in her purple swaddle blanket with her adorable nose that he caressed every few seconds because it was practically his wife’s nose, he didn’t need sleep.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Bellamy says in awe, speaking softly in the barely dimmed lit room. He was tired, sure, but he was exhausted with the love he felt for his child already on her first day in the world. He would never be the same man after today, “You’re mine, baby. And you’re beautiful.”

The white hat that covered her delicate head was covering Madi’s dark hair that made his heart swell, because she had already started visibly showing his features already. Clarke wouldn’t stop comparing her husband and child, saying that little Madi had her father’s hair and cheeks and smile that she fell in love with. (How could he not lean down and stroke her hair and kiss her senseless until Madi squirmed against her chest, he couldn’t help himself)

Now, getting a good look at her, Bellamy knew it was true.

Madi had her mother’s blue bright eyes, the feature that stood out the most for his wife and it took his breath away the longer he caught himself staring.

Bellamy’s hands are much bigger than his baby’s small ones, so when he uses his pointer finger to rub against her clenched fist, Madi unconsciously reaches for her father’s touch and opens her fist so she could wrap her hand around his finger.

“I’m so lucky that your mother isn’t awake to see me cry like this,” He tried to tease, to distract himself from the tear running down his cheek because he couldn’t wipe it. It was hard to believe, reality not having sunk in yet. Clarke was a mother. He was a father. He told himself a long time ago, after losing his first child with Clarke the summer after high school, that he would do anything to protect his child. He would do anything to see her smile.

  
Now that he was here to fulfill that promise, he would be giving his entire heart for the two people that hold it in their hands. Bellamy didn’t need to have that talk with Octavia, because she seemed to already know how much he loved his family. She would always be such a special person in his life, his younger sister, but she would have to deal with having third place in his ranking of the women in his life.

  
Bellamy glanced at his wife then, turning his head to the side. She was laying on her back, a heavy knitted blanket that her mother dropped off before leaving to go back home was draped over her frame. She looked so peaceful like this, with no makeup or her hair done up all pretty in curls (it was something she had been doing the few days leading up to going into labor, she wanted to dress up every day to make herself feel better about the pain.) but with frizzy blonde waves that had been brushed out for the first time in two days.

She still looked like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

  
Knowing that she would most likely stir if he touched her, he trusted himself to cradle Madi with one arm while reaching out to hold Clarke’s hand. His gaze switches between both Clarke and little Madi in his arms, and he whispers into the silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life.” He wants to laugh about the thought, but he could only grin so wide. Looking at his wife who’s just beginning to stir, “You make me so happy, Clarke. We’ve been through so much these past six years, and I always knew you were the one I was supposed to be with. Now, holding our daughter in my arms, you were the one thing I got right in my life.”

Clarke doesn’t want to open her eyes, so she squeezes his hand instead.

“Everything okay, Bell?” She asked in a raspy voice thick of sleep. “Madi?”

She wasn't awake to listen to his confession, but she suspected something else. 

“She’s perfect, sweetheart.” Bellamy told her, letting the nickname fall off his tongue because he would always get sappy when he was fighting sleep. It was the truth, their daughter was the most precious thing.

Clarke smiled lazily, nuzzling back into the pillow. “Did you get any sleep?”

  
“No.” Bellamy admitted, interlocking their fingers before she could argue. “I’ll sleep when my girls get some rest.”

  
When the nurse walks into the room a few hours later, she doesn’t know if she should shift the room back to normal. Bellamy had been hunched over the hospital bed, arms folded in front of him as a makeshift pillow with his head grazing Clarke’s hip, and Madi’s crib had been rolled over right next to the bed.

* * *

Clarke should’ve expected that her five year old daughter wouldn’t hold still once she saw her father at the very edge of the aisle, but it was worth the extra effort to squeeze her hand to at least try and reprimand Madi before she freed herself to run down the aisle.

A small part of her wondered if she should’ve asked her mother to walk her down the aisle like the two times she’s done in the past, but as Clarke glanced to the front row to see her mother;s beaming smile with her new boyfriend Marcus Kane (it wasn’t a shocker really, not anymore), she knew her mother approved of a little chaos.

But she also knew she made the right decision in having her daughter skip down the aisle right beside her, because her heart leaped in her chest at the sound of Bellamy’s chuckle and their crowd of friends and family bursting into laughter.

The sun was setting on the beach, creating the perfect shadow on one of the best days of her life that she’ll remember forever. The thought of renewing their wedding vows was something she had been thinking about since she returned to Arkadia six years ago, but Bellamy had proposed to her with a new ring a few months after Madi was born and they decided to have an official ceremony with a longer guest list that wasn’t limited to just their parents.

When Madi runs into Bellamy’s arms, he picks her up and spins her in a circle until she’s squealing in glee. Clarke tickles her daughter’s side when she makes it to the altar adorned with fairy lights, feeling slightly jealous of her husband for how much their daughter loves him.

“She loves you too, babe.” As if he could hear her thoughts, Bellamy pulls away from Madi to kiss the side of Clarke’s head to pull her close. His eyes are warm, gentle and she can’t help but think they’re the only two people on the beach. “_I_ love you.”

Clarke pulls him by the open collar of his shirt, quickly trying to shield her daughter’s eyes before she leans in for a sweet kiss.

“Mommy!” Madi exclaimed, giggling even after Clarke pulls her hand away on instinct to tangle her fingers in his hair. 

Bellamy doesn’t hold back either, letting his mouth open slightly to kiss her deeply and he had to pull away before he loosened his grip on their child completely.

“Aren’t you supposed to do that after the vows?” Wells cupped his mouth, raising her voice as Clarke wiped under Bellamy’s lip to get the pink lipgloss off of his mouth.

  
Clarke looks back at one of her best friends, standing next to Raven who’s hand is clasped with Finn’s and she waved them off with a growing smirk. “We’re already married, Wells!” She raises her hand to show off her ring.

Bellamy sets Madi on the sand next to him, adjusting her floral dress before whispering something in her ear. Madi’s expression changes from pouting to a big grin until she runs off to sit on her grandmother’s lap, and he’s left alone with his wife at the altar. He holds his hands out for Clarke to grab and she doesn’t waste another second in tugging him closer until their feet touch. She was wearing a flowy white dress, much different than the tight mermaid dress she wore for her wedding, and her husband was standing in front of her with tears threatening to fall with his black messy curls that blew with the wind.

He was the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

She loved everything about him, both inside and out. 

She was so lucky to have him after all this time, after the mistakes she’s made.

  
Theolonious crosses his hands behind him, not helping the smile that grows on his face at the sight of two young lovers in front of him. He’s never seen Clarke this happy, and it was what she deserved to feel for the rest of her life. He was the one person Clarke trusted to act professional in the group of people she knew, and she's known him her entire life. 

  
The crowd goes silent, waiting for the ceremony to start without any distractions.

Clarke mouths, “I love you, Bell.” with tears threatening to fall as well.

  
“Forever.” Bellamy promised.

  
“Are we ready to start reciting your vows?” Theolonious asked, grabbing two pieces of folded paper that Clarke and Bellamy had given him to hold earlier in the day.

  
Clarke nods, and takes the paper from his hands as she curls a piece of hair behind her ear as she unfolded the paper with slightly shaking fingers.

  
“Dear Bellamy,” Clarke stopped for just a second, locking eyes with the man she loved. “It feels like just yesterday when I first dragged you out of the house to run around with me in the rain and got us in trouble.” She’s pretty hear she could hear Aurora’s laugh erupt somewhere in the crowd, but she couldn’t focus on anything else other than Bellamy. “I already know I’m going to cry and ramble on about the things we’ve gone through, and how thankful I am to have a husband that loves everything about me.” The tears don’t fall until she looks to Madi, who’s shyly looking away from her mother’s emotional gaze. “How thankful I am to have a daughter that makes us smile every single day.”

  
“Clarke,” Bellamy sighed, not wanting to cry right along with her.

  
“I wake up everyday next to you, Bell” She added on, “I wake up to an amazing man, and most of the time, I could barely understand what I did to deserve you.” Clarke wipes under her eyes, “I smile everyday because of you, our Madi, and because I came back home.”

  
Bellamy couldn’t bother to remember the rules of these things, so he surges forward to cup his wife’s face and kiss her with everything he could give her.

  
“I came _home_ to you,” Clarke pulled away gasping, pecking his lips again and again. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

* * *

Clarke swats his hand away from her belly, the music in the background hiding her remarks from others. “Don’t do that here.”

  
“It’s always been hard to keep secrets.” Bellamy groaned playfully, going back to hugging her from behind as they swayed back and forth in the kitchen of his sister’s house.

  
“You’re gonna make it more obvious.”

  
“You haven’t even started showing yet, Clarke” Bellamy whispered in her ear as if he was a childish secret, making her laugh. “It’s okay.”

  
“The second that I give you the go ahead to tell your mother, you’re going to take it and run.” Clarke pointed out, and they both knew it was a habit and something she couldn't control.

Bellamy places his lips against her shoulder, pouting. “It’s the first boy in the family besides me, it wouldn’t be my fault that she would tell everyone in town.”

He was quiet, knowing it was true. 

“We’re waiting.” Clarke demanded, closing her eyes to embrace the moment even when she tried to be strict.

  
He shrugged, “I don’t have a problem with that.” Bellamy argued again, pulling away to twirl his wife around so they would dance properly.

  
It wasn’t until Octavia came to them in the middle of a slower song with a sleeping Madi in her arms, that they decided to call it a beautiful day and drive back home to their house.

  
Clarke couldn’t ever get rid of her father’s house. When they lived in Polis during the majority of her pregnancy, it didn’t feel right without being in Arkadia. 

  
The house was where Bellamy lived for six years alone.

  
It was the place she left and abandoned for six years after losing her father.

  
It was where she would be living for the rest of her life and raising her children. Her father would always be apart of her life, no matter where she was.

  
And she ended up right where she started, where she’s always belonged....in the town she grew up in. 


End file.
